


A Court Outside of Time

by Sonata_IX



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28757763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonata_IX/pseuds/Sonata_IX
Summary: Feyre's quest to discover why she can't get pregnant sends her back in time.  Can she seduce her mate, who doesn't yet know he's her mate, while pretending to still be in love with someone else and trying not to alter history? Post-ACOWAR.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 85
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my NaNo project for 2020. Thanks to my friends on the Kingdom of Sarah J. Maas discord server for being my betas!

I strolled casually along the pier. The Velaris docks were busy today, with new shipments arriving and plenty of fae out shopping in spite of the cool weather. It had taken some time for trade to pick up again after the war with Hybern, but not as long as any of us had feared. Now, almost five years later, the sea trade was thriving.

I kept my hood up, my scarf tucked tight around my face. It was just cold enough to not seem suspicious, and while I didn't usually feel the need to hide from my people, today was different. Today I was hunting.

It had been long years since Rhys named me his huntress and thief, but some memories linger like ghosts. Today I was hunting another ghost of a memory, one not given to me by my mate but by the Bone Carver. A boy with Rhys's face and my smile. Our son.

A son who remained as-yet unconceived. I knew that children were rare among the High Fae. I knew that. But it didn't stop me from worrying that I hadn't yet fallen pregnant after years of trying—fervent trying. I fought off my blush at the memories and refocused on my task.

I'd heard a story, part rumor, part gossip, murmured with just enough reverence to make me question if there was more to it. Some kind of magic that women could use to encourage pregnancy. It wasn't the first time I'd investigated such tales, but most had turned out to be rubbish. Even those with a scrap of truth behind them hadn't helped me conceive.

The most common versions of the rumor I was hunting today mentioned a certain midwife, Talissa, who lived near the docks, and so it was her that I intended to speak with today. By itself, there was nothing unusual about the High Lady speaking with a midwife. I had already consulted with Madja, as well as several midwives she recommended, but to a one they had all counseled the same thing: patience. Not one of my strong suits. But beyond that, I had a feeling there was something more to it. And I had learned to trust my instincts.

When I'd casually mentioned Talissa to Madja, the healer had wrinkled her nose and pursed her lips, loath to speak ill of another in her field but unable to resist cautioning me against her. "There's a reason you'll only hear her name whispered in small, quiet circles, lady, and not praised across the land for her miracles." She saw my interest at the word miracles. "Yes, she may get results, but at what cost? No one who sees her will talk of her methods. All who succeed are changed in some way. No child should be born under that burden."

I mulled over Madja's words for days—she was our healer for a reason and I valued her advice. But in the end, I knew I would still have to speak with this Talissa myself or I would always wonder.

I found her shop nestled in a row of neat buildings right there on the pier. It was covered in a layer of slick brine, like everything that sat too near the sea, but otherwise looked just as respectable as any of the shops on the street—and yet something was different about it. Most of the shops were busy, customers in and out periodically, or people pausing on the walk to gaze in the windows.

No one looked in the windows of Talissa's shop. In fact, eyes turned away to avoid it and steps sped up until people had passed by. My brow furrowed as I frowned at the shop. I couldn't detect anything that would cause that reaction, but there it was.

I shrugged my shoulders a little uncomfortably. At least it served my purpose. I didn't want to be noticed and it only helped me if the shop didn't want to be noticed either. I fell into step a few paces behind a trio of ladies who were chatting amicably with each other. When they reached the border of Talissa's and inevitably began to hurry past it, I increased my pace as well, but as they swept past the entrance, I slipped through the door without slowing.

The inside of the shop was bright and cheerful, with dried herbs and powders and rows of tiny bottles like any other apothecary. And yet, I shivered. I could feel it now—the urge to leave, to be somewhere else, anywhere else. I didn't know who this shop wanted but it wasn't me. But I didn't care. I squared my shoulders and stepped up to the counter just as a green-skinned faerie emerged from the back.

She hesitated in the doorway when she saw me, tilting her head. Long blue-black hair shimmered and rippled with the motion and I saw something unreadable flash across her face before it was replaced with a welcoming smile.

"High Lady," she said, bowing her head respectfully. "An honor to see you in my humble shop." Her voice was surprisingly low and rough.

I pulled my scarf down and pushed back my hood, then nodded in response. "I've heard many things about you. You are Talissa, are you not?"

"Yes, lady," she said. She was trying to keep her eyes lowered but I noticed her sneaking glances at my face. Normally such subservience would bother me, but something about this place had me on edge and I didn't mind Talissa recognizing my power.

"Good." I stepped forward and placed my hands flat upon the counter. I waited until the next time she glanced up and then met her eyes boldly, almost a challenge. "I'm looking for some information."

She did not flinch from my gaze, nor did she move from where she stood in the doorway. I noted the tension in her body, as if she wasn't sure if she should approach the counter where I stood or flee back into safety. "I know what you seek," she said slowly. "The Old Wives' Tail."

I blinked. I had chased many old wives' tales, but there was an unusual emphasis in the way she said it. "I've heard the story—"

Talissa waved a hand dismissively. "It's not a story. _She_ is not a story." Seeing my confusion, she sighed. "You'd best come in." She nodded over her shoulder toward the back of the shop, and added frankly, "You look like you don't want to be seen, and I don't want to be interrupted." Striding over to the front door, she flipped the sign around to indicate the shop was closed. "Come along then," she gestured, disappearing through the doorway without checking to see if I was following.

I stepped around the counter and through the doorway cautiously, my eyes scanning quickly to take in the details of the room. It was almost as large as the shop, doubling as both an office and a sitting room, with another area partially hidden behind a curtain that included a small cot and trays with potions and polished tools and instruments. Not her bedroom, but a place to treat patients.

I was still surveying the room when Talissa set a tray on the small table, taking one of the comfortable looking chairs and motioning that I take the other. I sat stiffly, watching her pour the tea. With a nod of thanks, I sipped the drink, cupping the mug in my chilled hands. As the warmth seeped into me, I felt some of my tension slip away. "Thank you," I said with a small smile.

Across from me, Talissa's reaction had almost mirrored my own. She rolled her shoulders, letting them drop with a sigh as she leaned back in her chair and eyed me over the rim of her cup.

"So," she began. "The Old Wives' Tail." Again, that peculiar emphasis.

"Who is … she?" I prompted impatiently.

Talissa lowered her teacup to her lap and stared into it. "A mermaid. You're looking for a mermaid."

I stared blankly at her. "Mermaids are real." After years in Prythian, I was no longer surprised at anything I discovered. Often what I felt was closer to annoyance. Of _course_ mermaids were real. As High Lady, I had a responsibility to my people and I didn't like it when I found gaps in my hasty education, things that were considered common knowledge to others.

Talissa didn't seem bothered by my tone. I probably wasn't the first to be skeptical about consulting with mermaids, though perhaps the first to doubt their very existence. "It's said that one of her scales, when ground into a tonic and taken by both parties, will encourage pregnancy."

I frowned. "You're talking about an aphrodisiac."

"I know my work," she snapped, her eyes flashing. "I've seen the results. This is no mere _mood enhancer_." She sneered the words and I found myself sympathizing. I myself had snapped at plenty of other midwives, who were convinced most problems stemmed from a couple simply not—trying hard enough.

I mumbled an apology and took another sip of tea thoughtfully. "So grind up the scale, drink the tonic before sex, and that's it?" There had to be more, or else the city would be overrun with children and Talissa—along with this Tail—wouldn't have such a questionable reputation.

She seemed to sense the direction of my thoughts. "The hard part is obtaining the scale," she said with a small smirk.

I raised my brows. "And that's where you can help?"

I reached for my purse and saw how her eyes gleamed as she took in the heavy weight of it. Opening it, I silently set a single coin on the table. Then another. And another. I kept stacking the coins one by one, watching her face carefully. She swallowed as she took in the wealth being laid out before her. "Tell me," I implored her as I set the last coin down with a clack.

"You must head north, along the pier," she answered at once, her eyes locked greedily on the pile of coins. "Keep going past the end of the pier. There will be a path, unpaved. Look for a cave with a pool inside and that's where you will find the Tail."

"And then?"

Her eyes flitted to mine and her lips curled into a sly smile. "Well, you don't kill her, Cursebreaker," she drawled, causing me to twitch. The title was still mine, but rarely used these days.

"What then?" I asked sharply. "Bargain?"

Talissa lifted one delicate shoulder in a shrug. "Possibly. No one who goes will ever say."

"You haven't gone yourself?"

"Do I look like I want a child?" She sounded almost insulted.

I snorted. "Fine." I added two more coins to the stack and stood. "Tell no one I was here."

She bowed her head again. "Of course, lady."

I didn't bother to be circumspect as I left, trusting in whatever magic kept people from wanting to notice anything about the shop. I walked for several blocks before I stopped, leaning against the low stone wall that bordered the street as I stared out at the sea to think. It had taken me longer than I'd hoped to find Talissa. Hiking to this mysterious cave would take even longer. Did I have enough time before someone came looking for me? Did I dare wait, attempting to conceal my thoughts from my mate?

I quickly stalked north along the pier, my hood and scarf again concealing my features as I mulled over Talissa's words, feeling grumpy. So there were mermaids. I didn't like being reminded of my own ignorance. I didn't like relying on some midwife of questionable repute. I didn't like asking her to keep my secrets. I didn't like _keeping_ secrets.

One last row of shops and then the stone road of the pier broke off. There was a short drop, only a few feet, and then a dirt path that snaked up and along the rocky cliffs that bordered the city. I didn't pause as I hopped down the small distance from the road to the path.

I tried to hurry as I traversed the rocky ground, but the wind picked up as I climbed and I had to watch my steps carefully. The drop off the cliff didn't scare me, but the shock of being swept off it plus having to summon my wings would likely attract Rhys's attention, and I didn't want to have to explain what I was doing until it was done.

At last I spied the cave, though it wasn't much of one. It looked more like a jagged crack in the rocks, as if something had burst out of them. I summoned a faelight and held it into the mouth of the crevice, revealing that it continued deeper into the side of the cliff in much the same way—jagged and broken, not really a flat floor to speak of. I sighed. If I sprained an ankle on some hare-brained goose chase, no one would ever let me live it down. Nonetheless, I set the light to float near my head so I could use both hands to steady myself as I clambered over the fallen rocks and rubble.

Luckily, there were no other turns or tunnels to keep track of. Just a single, gently sloping hole into nothingness. The angle grew more drastic further down and I found myself practically clinging to nearby boulders and outcroppings, my feet slipping on any bit of loose gravel that I didn't notice in time. Eventually walking became all but impossible, so I slipped and slid, cursing through the last bit and finally tumbling into a wide open cavern.

Looking up, I could see that the hollowed out space was tall, so tall that it opened to the sky, though little light made it to the bottom. The cavern was roughly circular with a pool in the middle, water gently lapping at the walls as it eddied with the tide. From the marks around the edges of the cavern, it looked like the water rose fairly high. The tunnel I'd come through might even be below the water level at times. Lucky that I'd come when the tide was out.

I brushed myself off and looked around, but I didn't see anything that looked alive. "Hello?" I called, and my voice echoed eerily, almost as if I was underwater. I stepped closer to the pool, bringing my light with me, and peered into the water. It had looked endless and murky at first, but with the light shining into it I could see that it was really not very deep at all. Something in that water called to me.

I stepped into the pool. The water was icy cold but only came halfway to my knees. I waded out to the center, and let my faelight die. Cool blue light, dimly reflected off the rippling water and slick walls, was all that remained. The water lapped almost hungrily at my calves. Slowly, I lowered myself until I knelt, shivering. "Please," I whispered, not knowing if anyone was listening. "Please."

I thought I was imagining it at first, but the movement of the water began to change. Instead of the lazy rippling in-and-out with the tide, it began to swirl. A wide, gentle whirlpool with me at its center. I tried to stand, but the water refused to release me, tethering me to its heart. My heart pounded as I felt an ancient, unfamiliar magic rise up around me.

Over the rushing sound of the water, something else reached my ears. Whispers, whispers from beneath the waves, hissing and burbling as they called to me. I strained to make out the words.

" _No life ... can come ... from the dead._ "

I frowned, wondering if I'd misheard. "I'm not dead," I told the water.

" _No life can come from the dead._ "

"Neither is Rh—my mate."

" _Dead is dead_ ," the water sighed. " _Dead is dead_."

I slapped a hand at the water, more angry than afraid. "I'm alive! We're alive!"

The water swirled higher, climbing the walls to surround me even as it stayed at the level of my knees in the center. The watery voices grew louder. " _Alive … but not always._ "

Directly in front of me, my own face appeared in the swirling waters. No, my _human_ face. Human Feyre's eyes were glazed, staring at nothing, her neck twisted at an impossible angle. I swallowed, but before I could think of a response, Rhys's face appeared. His eyes were blessedly closed and he might've been sleeping but—I knew better. I looked away quickly. That moment, that realization that he was gone, would haunt me for the rest of my life.

My breath caught and I shoved away the devastating memories as I realized what the water was trying to show me. I had died. Rhys had died. _No life can come from the dead_.

"But we're alive _now!"_ I protested.

The water surged around me and I looked up. The ghastly faces had vanished but now I knelt at the center of a veritable waterspout. I felt a pulse of magic echo all around me and then a dark shape slithered through the spinning water. Glowing eyes flickered from within as it circled me. I thought to reach for my own magic, for my weapons, but something held me fast. Something that kept me locked in place, unable to move, unable to act. Not fear. Some other power. All I could do was kneel in the middle of that raging water, clenching my fists on my thighs, and watch as the creature observed me. I wondered what it saw.

It burst through the wall of water, showering me with salt and sand. I blinked the burning water from my eyes and shook my wet hair out of my face.

The creature could have been called a mermaid, but it—she was nothing like the beautiful slender women carved on the bows of ships. This mermaid was a giant in comparison, with muscular arms and ridges of barnacle-like protuberances that looked like they were growing right out of her flesh. Her hair was made up of thick strands in murky seaweed green that floated around her in a phantom wind, as if she were still submerged. I gulped in air, feeling the need to confirm that there was in fact still air to breathe.

And her tail—there was something predatory about her tail. It glittered with oily black scales and might have belonged to some kind of eel, but certainly no fish that I'd ever seen.

She studied me with wide milky eyes, eyes made for surviving in the deepest parts of the ocean, and grinned darkly. "So," she said, slapping her tail against the rocks, "Feyre Cursebreaker comes to me." There was something triumphant, something of a challenge, in her voice and I raised my chin, shaping my expression into the familiar arrogant disdain that I wore in the Court of Nightmares.

"You may address me as High Lady," I said coolly.

She barked a laugh, hoarse and cackling, and I suppressed a shudder at the rows and rows of needle-like teeth. "What curse do you have, High Lady Cursebreaker, that this old Tail might break but you cannot?"

"It's not a curse," I growled. "I just want to have a child."

The Tail cocked her head at me. "So certain about that, are you?" I knew she wasn't referring to my desire for children.

I scowled. "Fine, call it a curse. Can you break it?"

She grinned again, all of those pointy teeth shining with gleeful malice. "No."

I blinked and gaped at her, and the Tail, delighted by my dumbfounded expression, laughed and laughed. Angrily, I struggled against my watery bonds, fighting to rise, but I was as helpless as a child.

The Tail's laughter trickled off and she wiped at her eyes, though it was impossible to tell the difference between the seawater and her tears. "For making me laugh, Cursebreaker, I will give you a gift."

I stiffened. "I don't want it," I said automatically, recoiling when she leaned in close.

"Don't you?" she asked. "Do the stories still say you need one of my scales?" That deadly tail cracked against the rocks again. I stared at it, trying to imagine ingesting anything that belonged to this female. Bile rose in my throat and I clenched my teeth, swallowing back the nausea. I would _not_ vomit.

"It wouldn't work for you anyway. Your case is—special," she said in a droll voice. "No, what I have for you is just words. Surely you're not frightened of a few little words?" I didn't move, just glared a challenge into the Tail's empty eyes. "I can't break your curse, because, as you guessed, it's not a true curse. It is just how you are. How you were Made. You died. You were given a new life. There is no regifting such a precious gift."

I slumped as disappointment washed over me like the crushing waves. "So you can't help me."

The Tail smirked. "Did I say that?"

Hope ripped through me as I looked up.

"I cannot break your so-called curse," the Tail said, "but you were not always so cursed." Faster than I could follow, she was nose to nose with me, still grinning that toothy grin, wide empty eyes filling my vision. "The only time you could have conceived a child is before you were given a new life. Before you died."

She paused as if to make sure I was paying attention.

"I could send you."

I frowned. "Send me where?"

"Send you _when_ ," the Tail corrected.

I could only gape at her again. "Send me...backward? In time?"

She said nothing, only withdrew slightly to watch me. Waiting.

"But...how?"

She cocked her head like a wild animal, reminding me that she was alien, monstrous, powerful, dangerous. "Is how important, or is a child important?"

I stilled, mind racing. The Tail did a slow lap around me, patiently indolent.

At last I asked quietly, "What are the rules?"

The Tail spun back in front of me, holding up a hand. "One," she said, raising a finger. "You will be sent to a time before your death. I do not pick the time, I merely provide the path."

"Two, you will have until your death. The moment your mortal life ends, you will return here, to this moment. If you conceive before your death, you will remain pregnant upon your return."

I nodded, but my heart was pounding. How much of my life would I have to relive? What if I ended up all the way back at those long hungry years crammed inside a tiny cabin? But even if I didn't, I knew what horrors awaited me at the end of my journey. Amarantha's face rose up in my memories like a dark spector.

"Three, the most important. You. Will. Change. Nothing." I opened my mouth, but the Tail amended, "beyond what is necessary for your mate to impregnate you." I barely heard her.

It fully hit me then, and my knees would have buckled if I had any control over my body. Change nothing. I would have to do it _all_ again. Amarantha. The trials. And at the same time I would have to somehow seduce Rhys, at a point in our lives when he didn't know we were mates and he believed I was in love with another.

"Do you accept?" The Tail hissed softly. "Time waits for no one." She cackled at her own joke.

I swallowed. Time indeed. I wished I had time—time to think, time to plan this out. But I knew if I left here, I might never return if Rhys found out—or even if the Tail would deign to appear a second time when I called.

"What's the price?" I asked hoarsely.

She smiled, a terrible smile. "The blood of the womb."

Through the horror of that pronouncement, I tried to think frantically. I didn't know much about what could be called "women's magic" outside of what I'd recently been researching about conceiving. The magic of childbirth, the magic of motherhood. I knew blood had power and I could only imagine blood that was shed in childbirth had more. If I agreed, what kind of power would it give her? What kind of power would it give her over _me_?

Her smile grew as if she was following my thoughts.

It was no wonder that no one ever talked about what happened when they visited the Tail. I shuddered.

 _Feyre?_ Rhys's voice pounded in my head suddenly and I winced. He didn't know where I'd gone or what I was doing, not yet, but he'd picked up on enough of my emotions to know something was wrong. I buckled down my shields, blocking out our mating bond as much as I dared.

"Time is short," the Tail said, holding out one scaly, webbed hand toward me. "Agreed?"

I stared at that hand while Rhys's voice grew louder and louder in my head. If I didn't go now, he would never let me try again. And I wanted this, I wanted children. _Our_ children. The past was already done, all I had to do was relive it.

I reached for the Tail's hand. "Agreed."

But the Tail pulled her hand back before I could reach it. I snarled at her but she only said reluctantly, "You know _my_ price. But I must warn you, the magic—the magic will demand its own price."

I opened my mouth but she shook her head. "I know not what it will be. Only that your memories will contain precious foreknowledge, so you must give something to balance the scales. Whatever is taken will be returned to you once you have succeeded."

She waited until I nodded through clenched teeth before she extended her hand again.

As soon as my fingers touched hers she dissolved, drenching me anew. Whatever spell had been holding me in place vanished and I felt briefly weightless before the water swept in, swirling around me as it swallowed me up and sucked me down. I barely had time for a final gulp of air before I was lost in the whirling vortex.

 _I love you,_ I tried to say down the bond to Rhys, but the water became a heavy weight around me, squeezing me from all sides until at last the pressure made me pass out.

I woke up in a cell Under the Mountain. And I was once again completely human.


	2. Chapter 2

I was lying on the straw pallet that had been my bed for those long, torturous months. I pushed myself up onto my elbows—and almost passed out again. The pain hit me instantly, sharp enough to bring tears to my eyes. I let out a low hissing breath through teeth that hurt to clench. Cauldron, had being human always felt so awful? Every part of my body ached.

Slowly and gingerly, I swung my feet to the floor, my hands on my knees as I slumped forward and fought off waves of agony and weakness. This couldn't possibly be right. Was this the magic's price, to make me feel so much more awful than I remembered? Unless—

I lifted my left arm, fearing to see the ruptured bone and swelling infection that I had experienced after my first trial, but the skin was smooth and unblemished. If I wasn't suffering from that injury, then what the hells was wrong with me?

The realization that I was truly human and once again mortal slowly began to sink in. I held both my arms up side by side and could only stare. The sight of my bare skin without a tattoo in sight shook me more than any physical pain. I swallowed and realized my hands were trembling. I gripped my knees tightly. It was real. I was really here. Again.

The lack of tattoos meant I hadn't been Under the Mountain very long. I had maybe as much as three months to seduce my mate. Good. That was good.

I looked down at my arms again and at my knuckles turning white on my knees.

I was human. I had no special powers. I hurt everywhere and I was half-starved. I had to face Amarantha and all three of her trials again, to prove my love for a male that I despised, all while convincing another male that when not servicing Amarantha against his will he should service me instead.

I shot up and barely made it to the far corner before I vomited.

What had I done? I wiped my mouth and made my shaky way back to the pallet.

No, I could do this. I knew Rhys. And he knew me, even now. I would have to go slowly, as slowly as time allowed, but I could do this. My hands curled over my abdomen. For us, I could do this.

I rested my head against the cold stone of the wall and tried to think. No powers, no magic, no faerie strength, no wings. But I still had my mind, and even without my _daemati_ powers, my thoughts could be a weapon.

I tried to build those walls that had become second nature after so many years. My efforts felt sluggish, as if my mind knew what it should do but hadn't ever exercised those muscles. I sighed. Of course not. Much like how after years of training with Cassian my instincts might protect me in a fight, but my human body would struggle to respond the way I expected it to.

Still, shielding would be important. I knew that with his magic limited, Rhys hadn't bothered to delve deeply into my mind very often, so my best advantage would be to stop broadcasting every stray thought at him and only project what I wanted him to hear.

I spent the next few days going back to those beginner exercises: building my shields, raising them and lowering them. I let myself daydream of those early days in the Night Court, writing ridiculous sentences. _Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord. Rhysand is the most delightful High Lord. Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord._

Even in the solitary darkness, trapped in the past, I couldn't help but smile at the memory.

By my best guess, a few days had passed before the guards came for me. The bruises on my body didn't seem to heal—or I'd forgotten how slowly a human body healed. I had forced down the stale bread that was left for me, but that was almost as difficult as ignoring the pain. I was determined to walk bravely, as a defiant champion-to-be, but my human body felt stupid and clumsy. The light was dimmer than I remembered and every one of my senses felt dulled.

As the guards dragged me forward, I tried to focus on my shields but my heart was racing and I could feel panic waiting to claim me.

It was exactly as horrible as I remembered. The throne room. The leering faerie onlookers. Poor Clare's body, rotting on the wall. At least now I knew that she hadn't suffered.

And then—Amarantha. She was sitting on her throne with that familiar sly smile on her cruel lips. And yet, she looked somehow less. I had had nightmares about her for years. Still did sometimes. But after facing Hybern and all of the other terrors of the war, she looked almost—ordinary.

"You look positively dreadful," she told me, clicking her tongue. "Wouldn't you say she's taken a turn for the worse?" she asked her companion. Tamlin.

I stared at the male I was supposed to still be madly, desperately in love with. He didn't look at me, didn't look at anything. He may as well have been a living doll, a perfect statue installed at Amarantha's side.

"You know," she drawled, turning her attention back to me, chin propped on her hand, "I couldn't sleep last night, and I realized why this morning. I don't know your name. If you and I are going to be such close friends for the next three months, I should know your name, shouldn't I?"

Last time, I had refused. And the Tail had warned me not to change anything. But was I really changing anything if I gave her the name she would wring from me in a few moments anyway? I opened my mouth.

No, wait. If I spoke now, then Lucien wouldn't be threatened, and if I didn't give up my name to save Lucien then the Lady of Autumn wouldn't come to my rescue later. I snapped my mouth shut, sweat beading my forehead at the near miss.

No wonder I wasn't supposed to change anything. Even such a seemingly small thing could have had dire consequences.

Amarantha frowned. "Come, now, pet. You know my name—isn't it fair that I know yours?" The Attor appeared next to me suddenly and I stiffened, resisting the urge to snarl at it. "After all," Amarantha continued, "you've already learned the consequences of giving false names." Her words didn't phase me. I would forever regret my part in Clare's death, but for me it was ancient history.

"Rhysand," she called, and I stopped breathing. I heard him approaching, his steps casual and unhurried. Even without turning I could picture how he would look, that cocky smirk on his face and his shadows swirling lazily around him. But I couldn't make myself face him. I checked my mental shields again and prayed that they would be enough.

Amarantha eyed him. "Is this the girl you saw at Tamlin's estate?"

He brushed invisible dust from his tunic and in spite of everything my heart lifted at the familiar nonchalant gesture. He was looking at me now. I refused to meet his gaze. "I suppose," he drawled, sounding bored.

"But did you or did you _not_ tell me _that girl_ was the one you saw?" She gestured at Clare's body, a bite entering her tone.

"Humans all look alike to me," was his only answer. I resisted the urge to smirk.

"And what about faeries?" Amarantha asked sweetly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him bow. "Among a sea of mundane faces, yours is a work of art," he answered smoothly.

My lips twitched but Amarantha's attention was fully focused on Rhys. "What's her name?" she demanded.

"How would I know? She lied to me." He sounded bored and slightly irritated. He was so good at this game, my mate. I reined in the swell of pride that I felt, finally remembering that I was supposed to be terrified, and checked my shields again.

Amarantha pursed her lips. "If you're inclined to play games, girl, then I suppose we can do this the fun way." She snapped her fingers and my confidence vanished that easily, replaced with the racing of my heart as the Attor dragged Lucien forward.

Amarantha gestured at Rhys. "Hold his mind."

I knew I could save him. I _knew_ it. And it still meant nothing in that moment. Fear held me paralyzed.

I stared at Lucien as he knelt stiffly, sweating, and he and Rhys locked gazes.

"Her name, Emissary?" Amarantha asked Lucien. Dear Lucien, his resolve was exactly as I remembered. He refused to voice an answer, visibly steeled himself, and closed his eyes to do whatever little he could to resist my mate's claws in his mind.

I held my tongue, waiting while Amarantha continued to question Lucien, Tamlin, even Lucien's brothers. But she quickly grew tired of the game and gestured to Rhys. Lucien groaned.

Now. I had to speak now. I took a half step forward, opened my mouth, and—nothing happened.

I shook my head, coughing, and struggled to make the muscles of my throat respond, but I couldn't manage to spit out a single word.

 _The magic will demand its own price._ The Tail's words echoed in my head.

I gripped my throat in rising horror. Panicked, I spun toward Rhys, who was already watching me curiously, distracted from Lucien by my strange antics. _FEYRE,_ I screamed at him with my untrained human mind. _I'm Feyre Feyre Feyre tell her tell her please no Lucien I'm Feyre tell her Feyre!_

"Interesting," Rhys murmured, turning to face me more fully. Forgotten, Lucien slumped to the ground. "She can't say it."

"Can't or won't?" Amarantha snapped.

I opened my mouth again and tried to say something, anything, but the words died in my throat and I was left gaping like a fish. Rhys cocked his head to the side, studying me. "Can't, it seems. Somebody's picked up a nasty curse," he purred. I glared at him. "Oh, it's Feyre, by the way. Her name. Poor thing is so terrified for dear, sweet Lucien that she's practically screaming it inside her head. It seems she feels quite strongly about him." He shot a sly smirk at Tamlin before stepping back with a bow to the queen.

Amarantha tapped two fingers against her blood red lips thoughtfully. "Feyre," she repeated, drawing out the syllables. "An old name—from one of our earlier dialects. But you spoke before—forcefully." Her gaze swept the assembled faeries. "Which of you managed to steal my new pet's voice, hmm?"

Whispers and mumbles swept through the crowd as everyone glanced suspiciously at their neighbors but no one spoke up. Lucien was staring at me and I could only clutch my throat and stare back, panic still beating at me.

"Well, no matter," Amarantha said dismissively, turning her attention to me again. Her eyes shone with malice. "I promised you a riddle, _Feyre_ , but I suppose now you won't be able to answer even if you do manage to figure it out."

Something sparked inside me and I dropped my hands, clenching them into fists at my sides as I drew myself up and lifted my chin to glare a challenge at her.

"Very well," Amarantha chuckled darkly. "Solve this, Feyre, and you and your High Lord, and all his court, may immediately leave with my blessing. Let's see if you are indeed clever enough to deserve one of our kind."

She recited it once, then again, and I let my face go blank with confusion. Laughter echoed around me, but I ignored it and kept my mask carefully in place. Amarantha gave me a patronizing smile. "Think on it," she said. "When it comes to you I'll be waiting."

I very deliberately did not think on it. Not with Rhys so close and his attention already on me. I couldn't look at him, or Tamlin, or Lucien, not with my heart still racing.

My voice. The magic had taken my voice. I swallowed and it sounded loud in my ears.

Thankfully, that was the end of my audience and the guards dragged me back to my cell.

They had barely locked the door behind them when the darkness exploded, pinning me against the wall with a dark, taloned hand at my throat. "Someone's been making bargains," a voice purred against my ear.

My body went hot and cold all at once. "Rhys," I mouthed his name but no sound came out. Deep within the shadows, his eyes glowed like violet gems. He was studying my neck, clawed fingers stroking it with deadly gentleness. I shivered in spite of myself as those sharp claws slid down, slicing open the collar of my tunic and parting the fabric.

"Who have you been making bargains with, Fey-re?" He drew my name out in a mocking imitation of Amarantha as he traced a shape along my collarbone and I inhaled sharply. Of course, the Tail would have left a mark on me. I mouthed words at him, then shook my head in frustration. Thank goodness Amarantha hadn't seen that mark, whatever it was.

His eyes flicked to mine. "Indeed, or we'd both be in trouble. Amarantha knows the marks of my court even if I had nothing to do with _this._ " I paled as I realized he'd picked up on my thoughts and tucked myself carefully behind my flimsy human shields.

Rhys's shadows withdrew as he studied me. I tried to squirm away but he caught my chin in his hand, holding me in place and forcing me to meet his gaze. "You've had some training. I'm surprised Tamlin bothered."

I barely kept the surprise from my face. He thought _Tamlin_ had taught me how to shield.

And then I felt those invisible claws, tracing along my mind. _I could still tear through this with barely a thought, if I wanted to,_ he crooned directly into my head.

I jerked my chin out of his hand, banging my head on the stone wall behind me. Through the pain, I glared at him. _Prick_.

He chuckled. "Too bad you can't speak. I have a feeling you would say absolutely _delightful_ things to Amarantha. She might even have killed you on the spot and spared you whatever tortures she has involved with these trials."

I snarled at him silently. _Save the threats. You don't scare me and Amarantha's days are numbered._ I tried to think the words at him, but it didn't work very well. I knew what I wanted to say, but it all just became a jumble in my head.

I guess he got the gist of it though, because he chuckled again and traced his fingers, now without talons, along the marks on my skin. "I don't imagine you'll be walking around topless," he murmured, and heat suffused my face as I thought of the paint and thin strips of sheer fabric that I'd be wearing soon enough, "but it's probably best to be sure."

My skin tingled and I realized he must be placing a glamour over the tattoo. As he dropped his hold on me and stepped back, my own fingers probed my neck, even though I doubted I'd be able to feel anything, glamour or no.

I nodded a cautious thanks to him and took the opportunity to study him. I had forgotten how pale he was Under the Mountain. After so many years, it was strange to see him without his wings. He grinned at my appraisal and purred, "Like what you see? Since you're so fond of bargains, perhaps we could—"

My snarl was silent but I thought some choice words at him as loudly as I could.

His eyes sparkled. "You do owe me for the glamour," he pointed out. "Tell me who from my court you bargained with and I'll call it even."

Except that he'd glamoured me as much to protect himself from Amarantha's questions as anything else. And if he expected payment, he should have made his bargain in advance.

He tilted his head to one side, listening to my thoughts, then gave an easy shrug, sliding his hands into his pockets. "You've learned our ways, I see. Fine, keep your secrets—for now. That's some powerful magic that you've tangled yourself up in."

He paused, then gave me his cruelest smirk. "But remember, Feyre darling, what was given can just as easily be taken away." I had a sudden vision of myself standing before Amarantha, Tamlin at her side, as my shirt was ripped away to reveal a ribbon of ocean waves curling like a dark necklace around my shoulders—so that's what it looked like—declaring to all that I was not cursed but had made a dark bargain. I saw horror and disgust rippling across Tamlin's face.

I blinked and the vision faded into darkness. Rhys's arrogant leer was the last thing that I saw.

I was alone in my cell. He had vanished in that moment, leaving me with the threat that he could expose my secrets at any time.

My legs were trembling as I dropped down onto my pallet. No voice. I had no voice. _Change nothing_ , the Tail had said. I tried to frantically remember every time Under the Mountain when I had spoken. Could I still complete the trials without speaking? I thought I could. But could I seduce Rhys without words? I realized my hands were clutching my throat protectively.

It was no use. I would just have to continue. The advantages of knowing the future still outweighed not being able to speak. The worst that would happen is that I would fail to gain Rhys's trust and this would all be for nothing, but as long as I behaved the same and events played out as they had before, I would still be sent back to the future in the end.

But I wouldn't fail. My poor High Lord had no idea who he was dealing with. He thought I was a puny, stubborn, half-starved human girl who was terrified of the Lord of Nightmares, and even if he'd been having dreams about me, he wasn't sure what they meant yet. But I knew him in ways that no one else did, and even in this mortal form I would not let him escape me.

Alone in my cell, my lips stretched into a predatory smile. Rhys had once named me his huntress. He didn't know it yet, but he had just become my prey.


	3. Chapter 3

I had two more days to practice my shielding and work on my plan before my first trial arrived.

I thought I'd have longer. Some of my memories from Under the Mountain were crystal clear, but others blurred together. I had remembered that each of my tasks took place at the full moon, but not that there was so little time between my arrival and the first such occurrence. I didn't have three months to get to Rhys—I had two.

As I was dragged into the arena, feet sliding in the muck and the jeers of the crowd threatening to drown me, a strange thing happened—I was not afraid. The guards threw me into the cold mud before Amarantha's platform and I stared down into the labyrinth where I would momentarily be once again facing the Middengard Wyrm. And I _was not afraid._

The noise of the crowd died away and I looked up. "Well, Feyre," Amarantha said, "Your first task is here. Let us see how deep that human affection of yours runs." Her hand was resting casually on Tamlin's knee, but I barely spared him a glance.

Around the base of the platform stood the six other High Lords, each with an expression as cold and distant as Tamlin's. Except for Rhys, but even his usual smirk was half hidden in shadow. I could care less what Amarantha thought of me, but the lords—for them, I struggled to my feet and gave them a respectful bow in all of my muddy glory. None of them reacted, but that was fine. The important thing was that they had seen it, and every faerie in that room had just seen me dismiss Amarantha in favor of honoring the High Lords. A change? Maybe, but only a tiny one.

The Faerie Queen's nails clacked on the arm of her throne, drawing the attention back to herself. If she was bothered by my small act of defiance, it didn't show. "I took the liberty of learning a few things about you," she drawled. "It was only fair, you know. I think you'll like this task. Go ahead. Look."

I knew what was coming next and it took everything I had not to just jump into the trench under my own power, to wait there at the edge when I knew the Attor was behind me, coming for me. The curse probably made me look braver than I was, since it swallowed my shriek when the abhorrent creature grabbed me. Then I was down there in the stinking, slimy mud. Again.

"Rhysand tells me you're a huntress," I heard Amarantha say somewhere above me. "Hunt this. Release it!"

I didn't wait for it to come for me. I ran.

Everything devolved into chaos. I had no idea which turns I'd taken the first time around, so as before, I ran blindly. I tried to keep an eye out for the small gap in the wall that had given me precious minutes last time. The odds of me taking the same random turns that would lead me to that gap—I didn't have time to worry about it. All I could do was run.

But maybe I didn't need to find it. Now that I knew the worm was blind, all I had to do was get out of its path long enough for it to lose my scent. I spied an opportunity after the next turn. A long straight corridor that forked in two directions at the end, but before that—a branch midway down that led off to the right.

I sprinted down the corridor and made a sliding lunge for the side branch, bouncing off the corner and landing on all fours in the muck. Scrambling, I pressed myself flat against the opposite wall, like a child playing a hiding game. The worm barrelled by without turning to check the corridor. Somewhere overhead, I heard a roar of dismay and delight from the watching audience. I ground my teeth at the thought of providing them any sort of macabre entertainment, but there was nothing I could do but try to ignore them.

As soon as the worm was past, I threw myself down in the mud again, rolling in it until I was completely concealed. The stench was—actually not as bad as I remembered. For the first time since arriving in the past, I blessed my weak human senses.

At the fork, the worm barely paused before choosing the left path. Away from me.

I took a moment to scan the upper ledges of the maze. The sea of faces was a blur above me but a splash of red stood out. Amarantha smirked when she saw me watching. "You look lovely, Feyre," she taunted. "It suits you!" Around her, faeries tittered and I scowled.

I took off further down the branch, still hurrying but taking the time to slide awkwardly around corners instead of slamming into the walls, and checking each intersection as I went to avoid a surprise confrontation with the worm.

Only incredible luck had me finding the worm's den before I found the worm itself. I didn't fall into it face first this time, but making myself jump deliberately into that foulest of pits was almost worse. Gagging, I stumbled through the ankle-deep muck, collecting bones and placing the rows of spikes as I had before. I barely noticed the crowd circling around the top of the maze, watching me and calling taunts. Not until—

"She's building a trap." Rhys, sounding vaguely impressed. I glanced up at him as I heard him explaining how I had become effectively invisible to the worm and now was plotting to snare it. He was smiling at me, violet eyes shining. I hesitated for a moment, trying to remember how I had reacted the first time this had happened, but the entire trial was a blur of panic and mud and adrenaline. I settled for a glare and an obscene, mud-covered gesture, before I took off to hunt the worm.

That feeling of fearless determination settled over me again. I was almost done. My trap was set. I was ready to draw my prey into it. I had done this before. I could do it again.

 _Change nothing_. The Tail's words echoed in my head again. But maybe, maybe just little things—if I didn't lose track of the worm at the crucial moment, Lucien wouldn't have to warn me. If I could spare him from that punishment, would it really hurt anything?

As if the thought had triggered something in the magic, the decision was taken out of my hands. I was slithering closer to a bend where I thought I might find the worm, if the faeries gathered on the rim above were any indication, when something happened—something _different_.

A roar rose from the crowd and I slid to a stop in confusion.

And over the cacophony of cheers, Lucien's voice rose. _"IT'S COMING!_ "

I stumbled back from the corner, sliding and clawing at the mud as I turned to run, just as the worm slammed into view behind me. I mouthed silent curses as I shot back up the corridor. I'd expected to have a moment to catch my breath and review the path back to the den before luring the worm to me. Instead, it had been waiting for me. That wasn't what should have happened at all, but it didn't matter. The worm was following me. I only prayed that I remembered the turns correctly.

Thankfully, my memory didn't fail me. I found my bone-rails embedded exactly where I expected them, swinging around the turns with ease until I reached the final passage.

If I thought leaping into the pit the first time was hard, it was nothing compared to that second jump. The jump that I knew, _I knew_ , would shatter my arm. When I'd been placing my bone spikes, I'd hesitated a moment over the last row. But without my injured arm, Rhys wouldn't have needed to bargain with me to save my life. And I needed that bond to happen.

I didn't make a sound as I tumbled through the air, hit the muddy bottom of the pit, and rolled, but pain exploded through me, drowning out all other thoughts as I felt that bone spear drive through my arm. It was all I could do to scramble out of the way before the worm came crashing down behind me to its death.

I panted, clutching my arm. Done. It was done.

I still had to climb out of that damned pit and find my way out of the maze. Pain rippled through me with each step and I barely remembered to bring one of the broken bones with me. I gritted my teeth as I stumbled through the corridors. It was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other without them slipping out from under me. My arm pulsed steadily, sending waves of agony through me with each beat of my heart. I could only assume that shock and adrenaline had kept me from noticing the pain so quickly last time.

But the moment I saw Amarantha, smugly pristine and smirking at the filthy little human, my pain was drowned out by rage. "Well," she drawled. "I suppose anyone could have done that."

She'd barely uttered the words before I launched my bone spear at her. I'd foolishly hoped I might actually hit her this time. I knew a lot more about throwing spears than I had before—but my weak mortal body failed me. The spear landed at her feet, exactly as it had before, and the only thing that hit her was a shower of mud.

I barely heard shocked gasps of the faeries around me. In that moment, I didn't care about any of the Tail's rules. I just wanted her dead, again. Right here, right now.

Amarantha was oblivious to my rage. She tsked at the mud on her white gown. "Naughty," was all she said, before picking up a piece of parchment. "I suppose you'll be happy to learn most of my court lost a good deal of money tonight." She scanned the paper. "Let's see. Yes, I'd say almost my entire court bet on you dying with the first minute; some said you'd last five, and—" A pause as she flipped the paper over. "—and just one person said you would win."

My eyes flicked to Rhys. He had a smirk on his face, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets, and he gave me the smallest nod of acknowledgement.

Then the Attor was lifting me ungently out of the trenches and my guards were dragging me back to my cell and it was all I could do not to pass out in front of the court I'd just defied.

The days that followed were worse than anything in my memory.

I was more and more certain that my time as High Fae had made me forget what it truly felt like to be mortal, to be human. It was almost unbearable. I couldn't move my arm, could barely even touch it. I couldn't eat. I couldn't get warm, and then suddenly I was too hot. For the first time I was glad for my lack of speech, because I often woke from a muddled sleep to find myself mouthing my mate's name, begging him to come and heal me. How long had it been? I couldn't tell. I had lost all track of time. Surely it had been too long.

 _Change nothing._ My breath came in short gasps. He was suspicious of me and of my bargain with the Tail, this so-called curse that had stolen my voice, which was something different from what had gone before. What if he didn't come? If my throat could produce the sounds, I would have whimpered.

I don't know how much longer I waited, drifting in a haze of heat and pain.

And then, a cool hand cupped my cheek.

I pried open heavy, burning eyes. Rhys was crouched before me, his eyes glowing in the dim light. "What a sorry state for Tamlin's champion," he said with a slow smile.

I was so glad to see him I could have sobbed, if I had the strength to shed tears.

I remembered that I was supposed to hate him and argue with him, but right then I didn't care. "Help me," I mouthed.

He raised an eyebrow. "What would your precious High Lord say if he knew his beloved was rotting away down here, burning up with fever and begging his worst enemy for help?"

I tried to glare at him, but the act of narrowing my eyes somehow led to them sliding shut entirely. My head lolled back against the wall. "Help me," I mouthed again, or tried to. I was so, so tired.

I heard Rhys sigh. "Let me see your arm." I made an effort to lift it, I really did. But I was just so damn tired. "Let me see it," he growled, and then piercing pain jolted me back to wakefulness as he grabbed my elbow, shifting my arm so he could see it in the dim light. I looked away, gasping and struggling not to vomit.

"Oh, that's wonderfully gruesome."

I could hear his smile, but I just glared silently at him. _Are you going to help me or not?_ I don't know if he could hear the words or if he just read them in my expression, but either way he chuckled.

"I'll make a trade with you," he said casually. "I'll heal your arm in exchange for _you_. For two weeks every month, two weeks of my choosing, you'll live with me at the Night Court. Starting after this messy three-trials business."

Cauldron, I wished I could just agree to that. To have that much more time with him instead of Tamlin. But no—I remembered the Wyrm, charging at me out of nowhere, just after I'd determined I could alter the past. I had learned my lesson. _Change nothing_.

I shook my head and held up one finger on my right hand. _One week._

He blinked at me, and then laughed. "You're going to bargain? Ten days."

I shook my head again, and then swayed where I sat as a wave of dizziness swept through me. I held up my hand again. _One week._

"I don't think you understand how bargaining works, Feyre darling," Rhys purred. I let my hand drop and just stared at him. He was studying me with a small frown. I wondered if he'd expected me to resist the idea more, but I just wanted the pain to stop.

"A week it is," he said at last, holding out his hand. "Since you can't speak your agreement, we'll have to make do with a handshake." I started to reach for him with my right arm but he tutted. "Ah ah, not that one. The one you want healed." I stared at him in disbelief but he only offered me that cruel smirk.

I looked at his hand. It was only a few inches from my left arm. Just a short motion, and then it would be done with. My arm twitched, generating a new wave of agony, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't lift it.

I panted, bracing myself against the wall and taking the deepest breath I could manage, then lunged forward with my left shoulder. It wasn't a controlled movement at all and I caught a glimpse of Rhys's startled expression before agony hit me and my vision swam. But the fingers of my left hand clumsily brushed his and it was enough.

A different kind of pain swept through me and I blacked out entirely.

I don't know how long I was out. I suspect only moments, or he would have had time to move me from where I had awkwardly sprawled into his lap.

When I first came back to myself, I couldn't remember what was happening. I was wrapped in warmth and darkness and a beloved scent, my head resting on a familiar chest. I nuzzled closer but the arm wrapped around me tensed, bringing me to full wakefulness.

My senses had been correct that I was in Rhys's arms, but he held me awkwardly, as if he had merely stopped me from falling on him and now wasn't sure what to do with me. I remembered my clumsy lunge at him to get my useless arm within his grasp. Oh. _Oh._

I threw myself back, scrambling across the dingy floor of the cell until my back hit the opposite wall. He stared at me incredulously before his arrogant mask dropped back into place. "What, did you think I was going to ravage you?" He snorted. "You threw yourself at _me_."

I shook my head, both in denial and to try to clear it. After spending days in a haze of agony, everything around me seemed unnaturally sharp. I took control of my breathing, noted that I was free of even the smallest aches and blessedly _clean_ , and checked my shields. That sent me reeling again.

It was back. The bond. It was fragile, only a thread, but there it was, filling a hole I hadn't realized had been empty. I could have sobbed, but Rhys was still watching me, head cocked as he observed the reactions that were playing out on my face. "You look completely flummoxed," he commented, sounding amused.

"How are you not?" I tried to ask, and winced as I merely mouthed the words soundlessly. Focusing on that slender shining thread between us, I tried again, sending the words down the bond. _How are you not? This can't be normal._

Rhys stopped breathing for a heartbeat. Then his eyes narrowed. _It's normal when you bargain with me._

 _Liar._ The word danced inside my head, safely behind my shields. There was no way anyone who had ever made any sort of bargain before would think this was something normal. It was the beginning of the mating bond right then and there, or perhaps as much of a mating bond as a human could handle. _Liar._

I looked away from those penetrating eyes before he could read it right across my face.

My gaze landed on my arm and I held it up so that my pale skin glowed in the dim light, highlighting the tattoos that now decorated it. That, too, felt like regaining a piece of what was fundamentally mine, even if it was on the wrong arm.

"No hiding that one from a certain High Lord," Rhys purred.

 _He'll get over it_. I stared at my tattooed fingers, flexing them and watching the swirling ink stretch under my movements. _Sometimes we have to do terrible things to protect the ones we love._

I kept my attention focused on my hand but from the corner of my vision I could sense Rhys's stillness, how he stared at me as he processed my words. I wasn't talking about myself, though I didn't expect him to realize it. Not yet.

Sure enough, a moment later he brushed the words aside to focus on the other part of my statement. "I wouldn't have thought Tamlin was the understanding, forgiving type," he said at last, taunting.

I sighed and let my head thunk back against the wall. _Fine, then he won't get over it._

Rhys eyed me. "Is this really how humans go about proving their love?"

 _You think Tamlin is the only person in Prythian that I love?_ I did meet his gaze then. Something trembled across the bond and was gone, and darkness suddenly swirled around him, half concealing his face except for the terrible smirk that stretched across it. "Oh, Feyre," he purred, rising to his feet. "Does dear Tamlin know?"

I blinked up at him stupidly.

"About you and Lucien?"

I scowled at him and threw a clump of mud, the closest thing I could grab, at his head. _Prick._ He dodged effortlessly, chuckling, and vanished into nothing.

I counted ten heartbeats before I realized he was really gone. Then—

 _Thank you,_ I sent down the bond. There was no reply.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day the chores started.

As I set about scrubbing the floor with the increasingly filthy water, I tried not to jump at every little sound that echoed through the long marble hallway. Would the Lady of the Autumn Court still come to my aid? I had still saved her son's life, but not in exactly the same way as before. Would it be enough?

The Tail's magic had me constantly on edge, wondering if each little change would be deemed necessary for my purpose here, or if it would have unintended consequences that the magic would punish me for. I scrubbed feverishly with my dirty brush to distract myself, though it didn't help much.

Thankfully, after what felt like far longer than it had in my memories, I heard the click of a door opening and I whirled to see her. Lucien's mother. I swayed with relief, barely remembering to bow respectfully to her.

"For giving her your name in place of my son's life," she said smoothly, pointing at my bucket. "My debt is paid." And then she was gone.

I cleaned my hands and face as best I could, then watched the magicked water clear the rest of the room before I slumped against one wall to wait.

One more thing done without changing the past. Still, my legs were shaky as I followed the baffled guards back to my cell.

That night, I stared at my left arm, twisting my palm to see the shape of the tattooed eye. I traced my fingers along the delicate lines and swirls that ran up to my elbow. I had to try harder to reach Rhys, but our time together—or at least, the amount of time when we could hold a conversation—was so limited. I would have to use this tenuous link between us. I could share so much more than just words, and he would assume that I was doing it all unwittingly because I was a human with barely any idea how to deal with a mental connection.

I closed my eyes and tried to order my thoughts, so that those at the front of my mind could filter down the bond without me having to fully lower my shields and leave myself completely bare.

I decided to start at the beginning. I thought of my family, as they had looked when Tamlin first came for me. Elain, cowering by the hearth, as far from the raging beast as she could get, pale and delicate and trembling. Nesta, her proud face no less terrified as she nonetheless placed herself between the snarling creature and Elain. Even our father, trying in his own inadequate way to defend me. I thought of our little cottage, the humble furnishings that made up our lives, the bed I shared with my sisters, the dresser—

I thought about painting. All of those little touches I had added everywhere I could think of. But especially the dresser. Flowers for Elain. Fire for Nesta. And for myself—the stars that I wished upon. In the deepest part of my mind, I remembered Rhys telling me how he'd sent that starry image to a girl who at the time he'd thought might only be a vision. But I was real and I had heard him, even if I hadn't realized it at the time.

I thought about my first sight of Tamlin, of his beast. He had been terrifying, but it hadn't been his monstrous form that frightened me. I was a hunter. I knew about beasts. I knew it wasn't the shape of a thing that made it good or evil but its intent. No matter how large it was or how long its fangs were or how deadly sharp its claws were, by itself a beast was only powerful or not. It took more than power to make it evil.

I drifted to sleep at some point while I was remembering that final fateful hunt, when I had slain the wolf that turned out to be a faerie. I don't know if I managed to convey my regret at needlessly ending a life and my determination to make sure my family survived at any cost, but that night I dreamed of stars.

The next day the guards locked me in what I now knew to be Rhys's room, spewing the same nonsense about lentils and ashes. I walked to the fireplace and stared into its dark alcove. It wasn't even worth bothering, I decided. Turning to the massive bed, I flopped down across it, staring up at the ceiling. I nudged at our bond, still that thin sliver, but I couldn't feel anything through it.

I didn't mean to fall asleep but the lure of a comfortable bed was too much. One minute I was trying to work out the next steps of my plan and the next I was jolting awake as the bed moved beside me.

Heart racing, I stared at where Rhys was stretched out on his side, only an arm's length away, head propped up on one hand as he watched me. "As wonderful as it is to see you, Feyre darling," he drawled, "do I want to know what you're doing in my bed? One might get—ideas." He grinned and his eyes trailed over me suggestively.

I swallowed. Even when I knew he was merely taunting me, I could feel my body tightening in reaction. If only it could be so easy.

I struggled to focus my thoughts. _They said I had to clean out lentils from the ashes, or you'd rip my skin off._

Whatever he'd thought I might say, it wasn't that. He blinked, then pushed himself up to stare at the fireplace bemusedly. "Did they now." He tilted his head at me curiously. "And instead you—decided to warm my bed?"

I blushed in spite of myself and sat up, sliding to sit on the side of the bed. I tried to remember how this conversation had gone last time.

 _Maybe she's testing you,_ I came up with at last.

"And what could Amarantha possibly have to test me about?"

_You bet on me during my first task. And before that, you lied to her. About Clare. You knew very well what I looked like._

He gave a graceful, fluid shrug of his shoulders. "Amarantha plays her games and I play mine. It gets rather boring down here, day after day." He was deep in the role of the corrupt High Lord. Arrogant. Bored. Cruel. But I knew better.

I fell back on the bed again. _Has everyone really been down here for 49 years? Not even a window._ I sighed. _I already miss the stars._

He shifted to look at me. "You think about the stars a lot." My breath hitched. So he _had_ heard my thoughts last night.

 _Stay out of my head,_ I parroted, because I felt like I should. He snorted. _I suppose I've always felt drawn to the night,_ I added more slowly. _Elain and Nesta, my sisters, both got to ignore things, in their own ways, but I—I was the one who had to go out and face the darkness. Someone had to save them, so I became what I needed to be. Stars are like—lights in the darkness. Hope when I had none._

I waited for the smart retort from Rhys, but he remained silent. Watching me. Listening.

 _You're the High Lord of the Night Court,_ I continued. _Everyone seems to think that makes you a monster. But—you keep saving me._

He didn't move. I knew he didn't want anyone to see through his facade, but I had to find a way to make him let me in.

_Even that first time I saw you, at Calanmai, you saved me._

He leaned over me, giving me a feral grin. "And I'm sure you remember our _second_ meeting."

When he had terrified Tamlin into sending me away. I remembered, but I knew he was trying to distract me. He was worried I'd seen beneath his mask and he didn't dare let anyone believe he wasn't fully a villain.

I looked up into his eyes. _Why were you at Calanmai?_ I let suspicion color my thoughts. _You said you'd been looking for me._

I stared into those deep violet eyes. I knew him well enough to recognize the turmoil within them. For a long moment, I thought he might give in to me then and there, but _—_

His lips curled up in a feline smile. _You thought I was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen._ I scowled and smacked him on the arm.

He chuckled and rolled to his feet. "Such liberties with a High Lord."

Very quietly, as if it wasn't something I meant for him to hear, I thought, _I think I was looking for you too._

I pushed myself up onto my elbows. He was standing with his back to me, but I knew he had heard. Time to try a different angle.

 _How is it that you have such power still?_ He turned, one eyebrow raised, and I tapped the side of my head. _I know there's more to this than the bargain. I thought she robbed all of you of your abilities._

"Oh, she took my powers. This …" Talons caressed my shields, reminding me how flimsy they were. "This is just the remnant. The scraps I get to play with. Your Tamlin has brute strength and shape-shifting; my arsenal is a far deadlier assortment."

_So you can't shape-shift?_

"Oh, all of the High Lords can. Each of us has a beast roaming beneath our skin, roaring to get out." He paused, dark tendrils suddenly licking around him. "Would you like to see?" he purred.

An involuntary shiver went down my spine. He was still trying to frighten me.

He didn't wait for my answer. As I watched, the darkness enveloped him and then _—_ he stood before me, all dark talons and beautiful Illyrian wings. I let my eyes go wide as I stared.

"Not a full shift, you see. I don't particularly like yielding wholly to my baser side." He might have said more but I was off the bed and standing before him without fully knowing what I was going to do. Something must have shown on my face, something other than the fear and disgust he was expecting, because he fell silent, watching me.

My eyes traced the shape of his wings behind him, the candlelight illuminating the delicate veins threading through the membranes. It didn't matter that we had been mates for years. Those wings could still take my breath away.

Unexpectedly, they flared slightly and I caught the twinkle in Rhys's eye at the little gasp I made. Fine, two could play that game.

I took another step closer, reaching my hands over his shoulders to run my fingers over the hard ridges of his wings. I was close enough that I could actually feel it when his body went tense, but I continued my oh-so-innocent explorations, almost caressing that silky skin. I rested my forearms on his shoulders and it was almost an embrace. A shudder went through him and I met his gaze. His eyes were blazing, stars dancing through them. His nostrils flared subtly and I knew he could smell my arousal.

Any moment now he would shut me out, break away, and probably make some cruel comment about my flagging devotion to Tamlin. Before he could do that, I inhaled deeply, almost choking when I realized how much I had missed the familiar mixture of citrus and the sea, with just a hint of jasmine. I leaned in until I was only a breath away from him and saw his eyes widen. _I wish I could paint you,_ I whispered into his mind.

And then I pulled back, both mentally and physically, wrapping my arms around myself even as I wrapped my shields around my mind as tightly as I could. I lowered my head and bit my lip, looking away as if embarrassed. _Was that enough flattery to save my skin?_

He huffed a disbelieving laugh and just like that the wings and talons vanished. "I can't decide whether I should consider you admirable or very stupid for being so bold with a High Lord.

 _Clearly I'm a complete idiot,_ I scoffed. _After all, I walked into Amarantha's trap with both eyes open._

"For love." His voice was full of scorn and I glared up at him, lifting my chin defiantly.

_Because I couldn't bear to live with myself, knowing what would happen to everyone if I didn't try._

He frowned at me, as if I was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. Then, abruptly, he snapped his fingers.

My eyes shot to the clean fireplace and the bucket now filled with lentils. The door swung open, revealing the guards. "She accomplished her task. Take her back." As they reached for me, he crooned, "No more household chores, no more tasks. Tell the others, too. Stay out of her cell, and don't touch her. If you do, you're to take your own daggers and gut yourselves. Understood?" The guards' faces went slack as his orders sunk into their minds.

His gaze slid to me. "You're welcome," he purred, and I trembled. I saw his satisfaction as he observed my reaction and I knew he thought he had at last cowed me. I couldn't very well explain to him how erotic his voice had sounded just then.

The next morning I had my first hot meal since embarking on this ridiculous time-traveling quest. I let gratitude flow down the bond without adding any assumption that I knew the meals came from Rhys.

Days passed and I was left alone in my cell. I focused on my tattoo. I stared at the eye on my palm, opening and closing my fingers around it, tracing the familiar, comforting lines of ink. Since I couldn't talk to Rhys, I resumed talking to the tattoo.

 _I've been dreaming about flying,_ I told it, mouthing the words as if I could truly speak them. _Through the night sky, over a city like none I've ever seen or imagined could possibly exist. A city filled with light and laughter and music and art. And people of all sorts, faeries of more types than I knew there could be._ I closed my eyes, picturing it. Velaris as seen from the sky. The feeling of soaring, of the wind across my wings.

 _Sometimes there's a—a strange palace, high in the mountains._ I pictured the towering moonstone pillars and gossamer curtains that billowed gently. _The breeze smells like jasmine, and all around are jagged snowy mountains reaching up into an endless sea of stars. But it's not cold. Just—peaceful._ I sighed. _Someday I would like to know peace like that._

The screaming that constantly echoed throughout the dungeon was easier to tune out this time. I had so many happier memories to lose myself in.

I talked about the mansion that my family was currently living in, courtesy of the Spring Court, but quickly moved on to the home I would like for myself. If I ever could afford such a thing, I made sure to add, for poor human Feyre's sake.

 _Wood paneling, thick carpets, furniture that was made for comfort instead of elegance, a dining table just big enough for my family and a few friends._ I thought of that long, empty table and those uncomfortable meals with Tamlin and Lucien. _A place that's a home, not just a house. Where people can live and love and cherish their time together._ I was picturing the home we lived in now, the estate along the river. It wouldn't be familiar to the present-day Rhys, but I wondered if he might still like the image of it.

Those memories were harder to let go of. When I came back to myself, in my cold, dark cell, growing hungrier and filthier each day, it was hard to believe that I was a High Lady _—_ or would be _—_ or had become _—_ time travel was the worst. Regardless, the Feyre that was the High Lady of the Night Court felt impossibly far away. I was homesick for a place I had never been, for people I hadn't yet met.

 _I've started dreaming about people,_ I told the tattoo. _It started with eyes, mostly. That's what made me remember them after I woke up. Two men and two women._ I thought of Cassian and Azriel's hazel eyes, similar enough that they could be brothers in truth. Mor's eyes, that cheerful brown so often filled with warmth or laughter or stubbornness. _But the ones that stood out the most—_

Swirling silver, like smoke trapped within flashing orbs. It had been years since Amren's eyes had looked like that, but the memory came back to me as easily as if she were standing before me. _I've never seen anyone else with eyes like that,_ I thought truthfully.

When Nuala and Cerridwen at last appeared in my cell, I had to hide my relief. I was certain that Rhys had to be receiving at least some of the thoughts I was directing down the bond, but I couldn't be sure how much of it was getting through. The link between us was still so fragile, and I'd felt nothing back from it in response.

It was easy enough to let them bathe and paint and dress me. I made myself sit stiffly, as if mortally offended by what was being done to me. Internally, I was tying myself in knots waiting for Rhys to appear.

When at last they finished, I studied my reflection in the mirror. Underneath all the makeup and paint, it was unnerving to see myself as a human again. Somehow, I still hadn't expected how different I would look. Even with all of the fierce, regal makeup, my face just looked _—_ fragile. I scowled at my reflection.

"Don't like what you see?" a voice drawled from the doorway. Rhys was leaning against the wall, blatantly ogling my body. I blushed. I reached out to say something to him, mind to mind, but he struck first.

I froze as he punched through my poor excuse for shields and slipped into my mind so easily that I felt foolish for even trying to hide from him. I squeezed my eyes shut as if it would make any difference against the intrusion, but though he was firm, he was also gentle. He didn't probe deeply, only sifting through the surface thoughts _._

And I had been ready for him.

If he had heard _any_ of my musings the past few days, I knew he would be worried about what I might know about him, about Velaris, and about his family. He would have to check, he would want to be sure …

So I filled my mind with muddled, cloudy visions that were a mishmash of the things I'd already told him. The feeling of flying over a city at night, the view from the mountain palace, faces that were almost recognizable but not quite, Amren's haunting eyes standing out due to their peculiarity. I added a few more things for good measure, things that only he would know but would make little sense to anyone else. Glimpses of the town house, of the Rainbow, even the sound of Mor's laughter. I felt his confusion and utter shock as he pulled back.

I opened my eyes and didn't have to fake the tears that prickled to the surface in reaction to his assault. _Why do you keep showing me these things?_ I tried to snap at him, but it took more of an effort than usual, and my mental voice quivered.

He was frowning at me, but then it melted into a dark smirk. "Whyever would I give you dreams when my specialty is taking them away?" And just like that all of the hazy images I'd conjured for him vanished into smoke.

I blinked rapidly and swayed, hastily sifting through my thoughts and reassuring myself that my true memories were still intact.

I didn't have to fake the blank look on my face as I gaped at him in shock. I knew he'd wiped the memory of Velaris from everyone Under the Mountain, but I never thought he'd do it to _me_. He'd shared some of my memories over the years, so wouldn't it make sense that I'd begin to share some of his? I'd thought it would remind him of what he was fighting for, that there was a world outside of Amarantha's court, that good people existed. That he was more than just the monster she had made him into.

I'd thought wrong.

"Let's start over," he said coolly, as if he hadn't just violated my mind. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he approached me. "I need an escort for the party," he purred, his eyes tracing over my exposed skin. "And you look just as I hoped you would."

I was supposed to say something. Protest, maybe. Demand an explanation. But I couldn't get past that emptiness in my head. I managed to close my mouth and blinked stupidly a few times, as if that might make everything clear again. But there was nothing wrong with my vision.

Rhys was studying me, the smallest frown on his face. He almost looked _—_ concerned. Did he think he'd broken me? I felt his thoughts brush against mine again and I flinched before I could stop myself. His face went blank.

No, he thought he'd made me afraid. Since that's what he'd been trying to do all along, I was a little surprised that he wasn't more pleased with my reaction.

For once, I didn't really care how Rhys felt. It didn't matter that he would be my mate in the future, it didn't matter that he didn't even know me now. Cold anger settled in my stomach and I hardened my expression.

I held up my tattooed arm between us. _This makes us allies. I think you want Amarantha gone as much as I do._

He cocked his head at me. "Maybe I want to take her place."

 _Maybe you're a prick,_ I snarled back silently. _I know who the true villain is here, Rhys, and it's never going to be you. But if you touch my thoughts again, you'll regret it. Maybe not now, but one day in the future. You. Will. Regret it._

I don't know that my words had any weight to them. They probably sounded like an empty threat from a poor mortal who didn't actually have the power to stop him.

But I saw something like relief flash through his eyes before his mask of arrogant amusement returned. He really _had_ been worried that he'd broken me.

I stalked past him, heading for the door. _Let's get this over with._

He raised a brow, pivoting to follow me. "Do you even know what _this_ is?"

 _Is it a party where you get to claim me in front of everyone Under the Mountain and simultaneously piss off both Amarantha and Tamlin?_ I asked sweetly.

His grin turned feral. "As much as I would enjoy _claiming_ you _—_ " My face turned red and I scowled. "I'd rather not share that lovely experience with anyone else. Besides," he added offhandedly, "I want Tamlin pointed at Amarantha when he gets free, not at me."

When. He'd said _when_. Not _if_. In spite of what he'd just done, he still believed in me.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and breezed past me out the door, nodding for me to follow him. "Now come, we're already late."


	5. Chapter 5

I'd forgotten how cold those halls were and how long the walk felt each night, with my toes going numb and my jaw aching from clenching my chattering teeth. I found myself gravitating closer and closer to Rhys, as if I could leech some of his heat, but short of climbing into his arms I didn't think it would help. I was amusing myself with that idea when we finally reached the throne room.

After years of ruling the Court of Nightmares, none of the stares bothered me. The hardest part was keeping my face blank and wary rather than falling into the disdainful arrogance that would have been my normal mask.

As we approached the dais, I didn't bother to look at Tamlin. This was when it all started, when he first began to wonder if I was under an evil spell laid by Rhys. Nothing of the vows of love I'd uttered last time had convinced him otherwise; there was certainly no point in trying now. Instead, I stared at Amarantha, letting the barest hint of a smirk flit across my face.

"What have you done with my captive?" she said, sounding congenial enough, but I saw now what I hadn't before, when I had been lost in my fear of what Tamlin would think of me.

Amarantha was _jealous_. Of _me,_ a human nobody. First I'd had Tamlin's love, which she desired more than anything, and now I had attracted the attention of her whore. Rhys may mean nothing to her beyond what he could make her feel in bed, but he was still _hers_ and now he was showing an interest in _me_.

"We made a bargain," Rhys said, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. As his fingers caressed my cheek, I looked away from Amarantha and Tamlin and focused solely on Rhys, as if he was the only one in the entire room worth looking at. His eyes slid to mine and then danced away. "One week with me at the Night Court every month in exchange for my healing services after her first task." Only when he lifted my left arm to show my tattoo did I turn my attention back to Amarantha, lifting my chin defiantly. "For the rest of her life," he finished.

I heard the crowd murmur around us and felt the shift. Rhys had thrown out his gauntlet. He had bet on me in the first task and anyone who had thought it was some sort of mockery now knew he was deadly serious. _For the rest of my life—_ and he expected to be able to collect for a long, long time.

Amarantha chose to address none of it. "Enjoy my party," she said dismissively, but as Rhys turned us away I felt her eyes burning holes in my back. Hers and Tamlin's both.

As we approached the banquet table, I slid a thought toward him. _She'll punish you for that._

He reached for a goblet and filled it. _And then I'll punish her and she will love me for it._ Bile rose in my throat. His expression was bland as he offered me the goblet. "Wine?"

What was the point in objecting? I took the goblet and downed it in swift gulps, then almost dropped it, barely managing to set it down on the table with an unsteady clang. The wine hit me fast. My vision swam and I swayed _—_ but that was it. It was an effort to release my grip on the goblet.

I lifted my hand and squinted at it. The elegant swirling ink danced and crawled along my skin, writhing like a living thing, and I shuddered uncontrollably.

I was definitely drunk, but I was still _present_. That had never happened before.

It seemed to be enough of a reaction for Rhys. He grabbed my arm, leading me across the room as I staggered and tried to remember how to walk.

The walls were lined with plush couches and it was to one of them near the front of the room that he led me. From our vantage point, I could see Tamlin seated on the dais but only the edges of Amarantha's skirt and one long elegant hand as it stroked Tamlin's thigh. Rhys was positioning us to taunt Tamlin more than Amarantha.

He threw himself down on the couch, his arms stretched along the back as he sipped from his own goblet of wine. I stared at him blankly as his gaze swept over me, a feral grin sliding across his face as his violet eyes glowed. "Dance for me," he said in such a low and sensuous voice that I felt a pulse deep in my belly and an instant flush that washed away the last of my chills.

Dance. I could handle dancing.

I had no idea why the wine hadn't swept away my senses, but I could use it. I could use this extra time, all of these extra nights with Rhys even if we were surrounded by enemies. As long as no one realized I wasn't as completely out of my head on faerie wine as I should be.

I let a coy smile curl my lips as I watched Rhys from under lowered lashes. I blocked the image of Tamlin, somewhere behind me, from my mind. I blocked out Amarantha. I made myself forget about every other person in the entire room, except for Rhys and the way he was looking at me and what I wanted to make him feel, even without laying a single finger on him.

I danced.

I danced for hours, until I could barely move my legs.

And then Rhys gave me a second glass of wine, but it only made me nauseous, tripping over my own feet in what could hardly be called dancing, until I made myself dizzy and vomited behind the couch. Rhys only chuckled, vanished the mess and then pulled me down onto his lap. I was too tired and sick to care at that point and slumped against him, heedless of what anyone thought of it or if I could be using the situation more to my advantage somehow. His hands traced new patterns in the paint around my waist, but never strayed.

I didn't remember falling asleep, but when I woke in my cell I found that I was exactly as sick from the wine as I had been before. I vomited so many times that I lost count and I was alternately hot and cold. How the hell had I done this for weeks on end?

Lucien snuck in later that day and I tried to look grateful when he wrapped his heavy, warm cloak around me, but he only grimaced at me. "Look at all this," he said, shaking his head as he took in the wispy dress and smeared paint. I could only imagine how haggard I looked after a day of sicking up over and over. "Bastard," he muttered.

I stayed silent, looking down at my hands where the tattoo stood out starkly on my left arm. Let him think I was ashamed. After a moment he sighed, grabbing my wrist so he could examine the tattoo himself. "What were you thinking? Didn't you know I'd come as soon as I could?"

I tugged my arm free, but I didn't want to fight with Lucien. Vomit on him maybe, but not fight. I opened my mouth, then closed it. I couldn't even answer him. The only one I could speak with here was Rhys. I realized I had wrapped my hand around my own throat, frowning in my frustration, and Lucien's expression had morphed into horror. "Is he the one that took your voice too? What other bargains have you made with him?"

I dropped my hand almost guiltily and shook my head, the motion sending me reeling. Lucien caught me before I tipped onto the floor and I gripped his sleeves as I stared up at him imploringly. I shook my head again, more slowly this time.

"Alright," he said, helping me sit back. "Alright. Something else then. Don't worry, Tamlin will find a way to get you out of it, when this is all over." He squeezed my hands and I gave him a brave nod. "I should go. The rotation's about to shift." I braced myself on the edge of the cot as he moved away.

He glanced back at me just before he slipped out the door. "Stay strong, Feyre," he whispered. "We're all counting on you."

The next few days were—difficult. Even if the wine didn't make me black out completely, it still made me roaring drunk. I spent half the day sick and half in an exhausted stupor. I barely had time to sleep, let alone think about my next steps with Rhys.

But each night, as he handed me that goblet full of faerie wine, I looked at him. I looked at him the way I was supposed to be looking at Tamlin, full of secrets and words that couldn't be spoken. With Tamlin the stare had meant "I love you" but Rhys would never have believed that, not at this point, so instead I stared "I know you" and "I understand" at him. His face was always a careful mask of boredom, but he never looked away until the wine hit me.

My stare after that probably did mean "I love you", but by then it hardly mattered. So many things could be blamed on the wine.

In spite of the faerie version of alcohol poisoning, which never lessened, I found myself growing stronger in other ways. I got better at keeping food down and Rhys was still making sure I got good, hot meals every day. Dancing all night was almost as strenuous as one of Cassian's daily workouts. The languorous state I spent each night in never abated, but I felt like I could think more, even if it was like thinking without any inhibitions about what might be a good idea or a bad one.

Once, late into the night, I was curled at Rhys's feet, resting my head on his thigh as he ran his fingers idly through my hair. It felt gloriously soothing, and if I closed my eyes I could almost pretend we were home and out of this nightmare. Almost.

The muscles beneath my head went tense and the hand in my hair stilled. Fingers curled into my scalp possessively. I stirred, glancing up at him, my movements slow and lethargic, to find his attention focused elsewhere. I followed his gaze to the throne. Amarantha was speaking to someone, one of the other High Lords, and with her attention diverted Tamlin had turned his head ever so slightly. Just enough that he could see us out of the corner of his eye. His knuckles were white where he gripped the arms of his chair, though he had managed to keep his claws hidden. I looked back to Rhys, whose expression had morphed into that of a cocky, satisfied male.

I stopped myself from rolling my eyes, barely. I brought my feet under me and stood up quickly. Almost too quickly, but I turned my drunken swoon into a stretch. That left Rhys staring, completely by accident of course, directly at my chest as I raised my arms over my head and arched my back, yawning. As I lazily lowered my arms again, he pointedly did not look away from his new target. He gave me a sly grin as he leaned back more comfortably on the couch, as if preparing to enjoy a good show, but his eyes were full of amused recognition at how I had deliberately interrupted his challenge to Tamlin.

I swayed my hips and arched a brow at him inquisitively, but he gave a slight shake of his head and made a dismissive gesture. No more dancing tonight. I shrugged and batted my eyes at him before retreating to the entrance where the guards escorted me back to my cell as usual.

In bits and pieces, I began to find time to send my "dreams" down the bond again. I had been hesitant about trying again after the first disastrous results, but I didn't have a lot of other options available to me. Rhys's attempt to wipe my mind had truly shaken me. If he realized that it hadn't worked, would he assume that his own memories were spilling into my mind and nothing could be done to stop it? Would he continue to try to wipe them out each night?

Or would he probe more deeply to look for some other source? I shuddered at the thought of Rhys discovering who I was by forcing himself into my innermost thoughts. I would tell him everything before I let it come to that, I decided.

I started small, smaller than I had before. Just wisps of memory. An indistinct view of the town house foyer with a feeling of home and comfort. The billowing curtains of the mountain palace with the scent of jasmine. A blur of gold hair and a woman's laugh.

The first night, it was difficult to wait while the wraiths dressed and painted me. I kept sneaking glances at the door. I'm sure they noticed, but neither showed any reaction. When at last Rhys appeared and the wraiths slipped silently away, it was all I could do to keep my breathing steady and not reveal my tension. He said nothing as I turned to face him, only watched me with an unreadable expression. I felt him probing at my shield and I swallowed, lifting my chin stubbornly.

But he merely turned away, gesturing for me to follow, and I sagged in relief. On weak legs I hurried after him, struggling to hide my trembling.

I was lucky, so very lucky. He must've decided that the "dreams" would keep coming back to me and wiping my mind repeatedly might indeed damage me as he'd feared had happened the first time. But I had no doubt that if it seemed like I might reveal any information about him or his family to Amarantha, he would be inside my head in an instant.

After that, I slowly grew more bold, sending more vivid images. I mixed in scenes of my mortal life as well, hoping it might seem more natural that way, but slowly, carefully I let my sendings grow in detail again.

That silver thread that was our bond seemed stronger to me now—I envisioned it more like a rope than a string. I still felt very little from Rhys's side of it, but I wasn't really sure what I could expect while I was still human. Could a human and a faerie even have a full mating bond? I had never had a reason to ask.

Maybe it just felt stronger because Rhys was opening up to me a tiny bit. We rarely spoke, but I had felt his presence lurking at the edges of my thoughts in those brief moments we were alone each evening. Sometimes I could swear I felt him linger over one image or another, turning the memory over and over like a cherished heirloom that he'd thought was lost.

Whatever the reason, I found that I could send more detailed images. I visualized them as paintings, letting them drip down the bond as they took shape in my mind. The horrible red of Amarantha's hair became the vivid fabric of Mor's favorite dress, with sweeping strokes in all shades of swirling gold for her long hair and two dots of the rich brown that perfectly matched her eyes. The silky black of Cassian's hair framing that tanned skin and hazel eyes, oozing with the warmth and solidity of the male they belonged to. For Azriel, just the outline of his face in elegant lines, the details lost in swirling shadows, except for his hands and the smokey lines of the scars that he bore without shame.

I lingered the longest over Amren, as I always did in truth. I could capture her silhouette easily enough, from the sharp line of her glossy chin-length hair to the curl of her lips that somehow promised death and destruction with that small smile. But I could never get her eyes quite right, that essence of mercurial thunderclouds. I went over and over them in my mind until my head ached from mentally repainting again and again.

Assessing the full portrait of the four of them, I mentally showed it to Rhys. _What do you think? I'd call it The Friends of My Dreams._ I felt such an ache of loneliness in my heart when I thought of them. _I wonder who they are, or if they're even real. If they're still alive, or if they're more of Amarantha's victims, haunting these dungeons along with me._

As always, there was no response, but the next night Rhys showed up early, watching with a heavy, thoughtful gaze as his wraiths put the finishing touches on my paint and makeup. When they were done and had left us alone, I met his gaze in the mirror and felt him probing gently at my thoughts. I held my breath, wondering if I had gone too far, mentally bracing myself for him to swoop in and drown out those memories as he had the first time. And then—

 _They're real,_ he whispered into my mind. _They're alive. They're safe._ Even his thoughts were quiet as he shared that precious secret. The breath left my lungs in a rush as I exhaled, overwhelmed with relief that I didn't entirely understand.

Then I realized—it wasn't my relief I was feeling, but Rhys's. He hadn't moved from where he lounged with deceptive casualness against the wall but he was sending emotion down the bond in uncontrolled waves. I could only let it wash over me, stunned.

 _It's been decades since I let myself think of them._ His thoughts were still quiet, as if fearful that even safe inside his own head someone might overhear and strip away the only things he had left. _I had almost forgotten their faces. Until you reminded me._ I could only sit, frozen, watching him in the mirror.

He swallowed and our connection shut down abruptly, replaced by only bleak silence. He stepped up behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders, the dark mask dropping over his features once more. "Forget them, Feyre. Forget about all of your dreams." His fingers tightened, digging into my collarbone. "I would take them from you myself if I wasn't worried I might disrupt that delicious stubbornness of yours that keeps you fighting," he purred.

An excuse, though neither of us acknowledged it. His grip on my shoulders had tightened, almost painfully. I knew he had to be wondering how I knew these things, how these so-called dreams kept reaching me. He had to be considering the bond between us and what it might mean, even with me being merely a mortal human.

Abruptly he released me and stepped back, but I caught a glimpse of the red marks on my skin before the paint corrected itself. Even when we arrived at the party that night, something in his expression remained stricken.

I had absolutely no idea how to fix it, and so I did nothing. For the next few days, I daydreamed in my own head, only letting the general feelings of home and family and loneliness seep out. I knew he could look if he wanted to, but I stopped pressing the memories on him.

I thought about trying to convince him to skip the wine, or let me only pretend to drink it. I could play along just fine without it and I wouldn't have to suffer through the after effects. But I hated to give up any advantage I had, and Rhys not knowing how aware I was each night was a chance for me to gain his attention when he least expected it.

I thought about telling him the truth too. The whole truth. All of it. If anyone could know the future and still hold to the same path, it would be my mate. On the other hand, if someone told me I had to let _my_ mate die to preserve the future—could anyone be strong enough for that?

What it came down to was that I had no idea how to proceed. I hadn't considered that he would have blocked out memories of everything outside of Amarantha's court so thoroughly, as a means of survival. Now I had crashed through those walls and forced him to remember that he was more than a monster intent on destroying the witch queen. That there were good things out there that had been taken from him, but could be his again. I hadn't expected him to recoil from the idea. Perhaps he was afraid to hope.

But time was not on my side. I had to do something.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Rape (in the form of a nightmare)

Late one night, long after Rhys had dismissed me to my cell, I was roused from an exhausted, drunken sleep by a tug deep in my belly. I was instantly awake and alert. _Rhys._

Haltingly, I fumbled my way down that cord that connected us to the murky shadows at the other end. _Rhys?_ I hovered at the dark walls of his mind uncertainly. Maybe I had only dreamt it.

But a second later I found myself pressed up against his walls, urged there by some nameless, irresistible instinct that pulled me closer. _Rhys, let me in._ I caressed the mental barriers between us, wondering what could prompt him to call to me so desperately. It had happened many times in the future, of course, usually when—

Without warning, a crack appeared in that impenetrable wall and I was sucked inside. Into his dreams.

Into his nightmares.

The room I was in was bedecked in all shades of reds and browns. The furniture was rich mahogany, the drapes and cushions a shimmering rust. And the massive bed that was the centerpiece of the room—satiny russet sheets twisted around two writhing bodies. A female astride a male, her long red-gold hair curling down her pale, bare skin. Her head was thrown back, her eyes narrowed to blissful slits as her back arched. Amarantha.

And beneath her, sprawled on his back at the center of the bed, Rhys.

Nausea rose in me at what I saw. Not just at the vile witch raping my mate, but at what else she had done to him. His large, beautiful wings were spread across the bed to either side, each one pinned in place with five ash bolts. With his hands and his body he worshiped her fervently, almost desperately, but he held his wings carefully, impossibly still. It would only take the slightest movement to shred them.

And his face—in this place of dreams and nightmares, his mask was stripped away. For all that his body moved like that of an enthusiastic partner, his face was full of horror and revulsion and despair.

Invisible in this dreamscape, my hands fisted at my sides. If I could, I would have crawled across that damned bed and ripped her off of him before I strangled her to death with my bare hands.

Bile crawled up my throat, but then the scene shifted. Rhys was at my side, but bound in blueish chains that I recognized as those that nullified his powers. His turn to stand by as helplessly as I was.

I looked back at the bed. Cassian had taken Rhys's place, the bolts driven through his wings in exactly the same places. I didn't think anything could pierce me worse than seeing my mate tortured, but Cassian—Cassian was a war leader. I had seen him take on impossible odds in battle, seen him covered from head to toe in blood, seen him near death from injuries he'd sustained in the war, but this—seeing him as an unwilling slave to that witch's wiles hit me like a physical blow.

"No more, Rhys," I whispered hoarsely, and was surprised at the sound of my own voice. The curse only affected my real voice, apparently. I turned to Rhys at my side and found that here, it was he who had no voice. He was straining against the chains, tears streaking down his face as the muscles in his neck bulged and his mouth gaped with his screams, but no sound emerged. His eyes were blown wide and I looked back to see what was happening.

Cassian had been replaced by Azriel, but he was barely there before he too was replaced. Mor, but with the bolts driven directly into her body. And then, perhaps the one most horrifying to see helpless, Amren with her arms bolted wide and her silver eyes gouged out. Then Cassian again, then Azriel. The cycle repeated.

I whimpered and stepped between Rhys and the obscenities that were playing out on the bed, cupping his face in my hands and knowing it would do no good. Still, I tried to meet his eyes, stroked my fingers down the straining muscles of his neck. "No more, Rhys. It's only a dream. Wake up. Wake up!" _Wake up wake up wakeupwakeupwakeup._

For a moment, just an instant, I could have sworn his eyes met mine and he actually saw me, and then something _snapped_ and I fell back into my body with a swirling sensation that reminded me unpleasantly of falling into the Tail's whirlpool.

Then I was tumbling into something warm, something that was soft and hard all at once. Hands gripped me and I inhaled citrus and salt—sweat, tears and the sea, all three engulfing me.

I froze, panting, trying not to vomit at the memory of what I had just seen. In the dim light, I began to make sense of things. Somehow, I was in Rhys's room, in his bed, in his arms. I was sprawled across his chest, our limbs tangled together and twisted between the black sheets. He was also breathing hard, but rapidly controlling it and I struggled to emulate him.

His eyes narrowed to violet slits as we stared at each other, locked in our mutual shock.

 _They're safe,_ I thought fiercely, mouthing the words for emphasis. _They're safe and she will_ never _have them._ I repeated it over and over until I wasn't sure which of us I was trying to reassure.

His hand came up to cup my chin. _Stop. Stop, Feyre. I know. They're safe. I know._ He brushed the tears from my cheeks and it was only then that I realized I had been crying. With a silent sob, I buried my face in his neck and he crushed me against his chest. His own cheeks were damp as he stroked my hair.

It felt like we clung to each other forever, but eventually I felt something shift. The darkness became a familiar comfort again and I could have easily fallen asleep right there in his arms.

 _I don't think about them._ His warm velvet voice in my head roused me and I shifted against him. _I don't think about them because this is what happens. I can't be worrying about what she would do to them when I'm playing_ — He broke off and I felt the fine tremble that ran through his entire body. When he was playing Amarantha's whore.

I lifted my head. His eyes were clenched shut, one arm thrown over them. Even now, even here in his own sheltering darkness, he was ashamed to bare his true emotions to me. A fierce wave of protectiveness rose inside me and my lips peeled back in a silent snarl, but my fingers were gentle as I touched his chin and waited until he lifted his arm to look at me.

 _She will die before she ever has a chance to touch them._ I don't know what my face looked like in that moment or what slid down the bond along with those words, but his eyes went impossibly wide, violet orbs glowing in the darkness.

And then he surged upward and his lips were on mine and I could feel that cord pulsing between us, drawing us more tightly together. _Rhys …_

He drew back from the kiss to look at me, his gaze flicking over my eyes, my nose, the shape of my face, as if he had never properly seen me before and was desperately memorizing every detail. I felt stripped bare and could only stare back at him, at his tousled hair and bare chest, and think about how much I wanted to ravish him at that moment.

But—no. Not with that nightmare still lurking so close to the surface for both of us. With a sigh and a small apologetic smile, I untangled myself and slid away, letting my feet dangle over the edge of the bed. I frowned. I had no idea how I had ended up here.

Rhys chuckled weakly. _That makes two of us._ He hesitated, then asked gently. _What happened?_

I shrugged. _I woke up and_ — _and I felt something calling me. I followed it, in my head I mean, and there you were._ I wasn't facing him but I could feel his eyes boring into me and I hunched my shoulders, anticipating his next question. _I saw it. All of it._ I swallowed. _I couldn't stop it._

 _It's the nature of dreams, especially when they're not your own_. The sheets slithered as he slid off the opposite side of the bed. Turning my head slightly, I could see him dressing out of the corner of my eye. On bare feet he padded around to stand before me and held out a hand. _Let's get you back to your cell_.

I stared at that hand, then looked up at him. _I could stay,_ I suggested tentatively, cursing the blush that rose on my cheeks.

Rhys arched his brows at me and was silent long enough that I looked down at my lap. _I hardly lack for that kind of companionship,_ he said at last, his words a seductive purr in my head. My head snapped up again and I scowled at him.

 _Not for_ that _, you prick! Just to sleep. I just_ — I swallowed. Somehow I felt even more vulnerable now. _It's just hard to sleep alone after that kind of nightmare._

He was studying me again. _What kind of nightmares have you seen, for one so young?_ He shook his head. _Never mind, you can't stay here. Rumors are one thing, but if Tamlin thinks I've actually touched you, it'll be me he goes after instead of Amarantha._

I nodded but my eyes met his with a silent question.

He was watching me intently. _Yes,_ he admitted, quiet even with his thoughts. _Yes, I want her gone. And yes, we are allies. You're our best chance, Feyre Archeron, and I'll do everything in my power to help you._

Feeling almost lightheaded with relief, I took his outstretched hand and we vanished, reappearing in my cell a moment later. The cold instantly began to seep in through my threadbare clothes and my cot never felt so uncomfortable as it did when I dropped down onto it just then.

Rhys cocked his head at me and then my fingers and toes tingled, as if someone had dropped a heavy warm blanket of magic over me. I glanced up at him but he was already vanishing into shadow. One last pulse down the bond warmed me from the inside as much as the magic was warming me from the outside.

_Thank you, Feyre._

When I saw him the next evening, nothing had changed outwardly. Except that he offered me his elbow as we walked to the throne room and when I placed my tattooed fingers against his arm they tingled with warmth. My spine straightened and for the first time since embarking on this strange quest, I felt like a High Lady again.

That night I drank the wine willingly, welcoming anything to disguise the giddiness I was feeling. We were a team again, Rhys and I. At last.

Quickly enough after that, my second trial arrived. I had lost all track of time until one night Rhys casually mentioned that it would happen the next day.

I wasn't worried about the second trial. Of the three, it would be by far the easiest for me to repeat without fear for my life or sanity.

"You don't seem to have a care at all inside that pretty little head," Rhys noted, studying me.

I was more concerned about what was going on inside _his_ head. I studied him in return. Something was still off about him. Even though he had acknowledged that we were working toward the same goal, he still spent most of the time hidden behind his cruel Lord of Nightmares mask. I was probably the only one who knew him well enough to notice the shadows that still lurked around his eyes.

 _I'm going to end this,_ I told him. _And we're all getting out from Under the Mountain._

"Still dreaming," he said with a wry smile.

 _Yes,_ I replied, rising to stand before him, my chin tilted stubbornly. _Dreaming about my family. They're safe. They're waiting for me._

He slid his hands into his pockets as he watched me, still smirking. "From what I've learned about your family, your sisters may be less than eager to see you again." I blinked. He meant his words to wound and it may have worked if I was truly the human Feyre he saw before him, but I was much, much more than that.

 _My mistake,_ I said, matching his tone perfectly. _Must be your family I've been dreaming about._

He froze and something flashed through his eyes, then I felt his claws sifting through my mind again. My thoughts were full of Velaris and Mor and Cassian and Azriel and Amren. And him. I knew he had his reasons for forgetting them and that it hurt him to remember, but I had to let him know that he wasn't alone. He closed his eyes, the only visible concession to the turmoil roiling inside of him.

I stepped forward and slid my arms around his waist. He didn't react to my embrace, but nor did he resist it. _I'm going to end this,_ I repeated, burying my face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent that I had been missing for so long.

He swallowed. "So eager to start your happily ever after with Tamlin?" he asked hoarsely.

My hands gripped the back of his shirt reflexively. I carefully ordered my thoughts.

 _I think that our time here Under the Mountain has changed both of us_ — _all of us. I don't know if I can fix what's broken in Tamlin._ An image, Tamlin, helpless beside Amarantha, eyes first glowing with anger and warning, then dull with defeat. _I don't know if he can even understand how I've been broken._ Being hunted, being sick, being alone, being forced to continue because I have no choice, because everyone is counting on me. An almost overwhelming feeling of horror at what was yet to come.

I shuddered. _I don't know how to go back, to the Spring Court or to Tamlin. To what he needs me to be._

His hands slid out of his pockets and wrapped slowly around my shoulders, and I relaxed into his embrace. I pressed myself closer against him and he sighed softly, his breath disturbing my hair. I felt something through the bond then. Regret.

"I knew I should have held out for two weeks," he murmured into my ear. "If it only took a month under Amarantha's rule for you to lose interest in dear Tamlin, I can only imagine how you would feel about him after two weeks of sampling the pleasures of the Night Court." His voice was the most intimate caress that turned my knees weak as I melted against him. Cauldron, did he mean that to be a threat? The Night Court was supposed to be full of unimaginable tortures, not pleasures. But when he said it like that—I didn't know if he was trying to frighten me or seduce me. Perhaps both.

Rhys must have picked up on some of the seesawing thoughts because he suddenly chuckled, his chest rumbling against my face before he untangled our bodies and put some space between us. He ran his eyes over me and sighed ruefully. "Feyre darling, after all the trouble I've gone to, you're determined to prove exactly how _not_ loyal to Tamlin you are."

I glanced down at myself, where Nuala and Cerridwen's delicate work had been almost completely destroyed. I raised my brows at Rhys, who looked deceptively paint-free. _I see now why you always wear black._ He only shook his head and snapped his fingers, restoring me to my usual appearance, but for a moment at least, his countenance was lighter. His eyes shone with a spark of that brilliant vibrance that warmed my heart.

But when we entered the throne room that night, everything was different.

"Just stay close, and keep your mouth shut," Rhys murmured as he guided me through the gawking crowd toward where Amarantha waited.

As my eyes fell on the weeping Summer Court faerie who was crumpled before her, I suddenly wondered who he was to Tarquin. A friend? Family? They had to be close if he was involved in whatever failed rebellion the High Lord had planned. I felt as if rocks were being piled painfully into my stomach. I had never asked, never even thought twice about this poor male. Just one more horror from Under the Mountain.

As Amarantha and Rhys played their games of intimidation, I stood at the edge of the crowd, forgotten for the moment, and looked for Tarquin. He was intent on the scene before him, worry plain on his face as he watched. I thought of the last time I'd seen him, the last time High Lady Feyre had seen him. It was in his palace overlooking his beloved Adriata, his eyes sparkling like sunlight on the ocean, his expression full of pride and joy and laughter. To see him now, all but stripped of his power and forced to watch as one of his most trusted subjects was tortured and killed to protect a failed plot of rebellion—it was almost as unbearable as watching Rhys forced to perform the acts.

My eyes slid back to my High Lord. Without thinking, I reached down the bond, expecting to be rebuffed, and I was caught by surprise when instead I was pulled along as Rhys entered the faerie's mind and held him.

I was astounded by how easily he was able to flick through the male's mind, even as limited as he was by Amarantha's restrictions. I heard his attempts to soothe the male, assuring him that he would feel no pain and his secrets would be safe, that he had made a valiant effort and had not failed or betrayed his High Lord. No wonder the male looked so relieved when Amarantha ordered Rhys to destroy him—not because he was grateful to be spared the pain of torture, but because Rhys had already promised him so much more. Tarquin owed his life to Rhys and he would never know it.

As Rhys prepared to execute Amarantha's order in the most gentle and the most brutal way possible, I felt him mentally nudge me back, away from the psychic impact of what he was about to do. It was the first sign he'd given that he was aware I was listening in. I retreated just in time to hear Amarantha drawl, "I'm growing bored, Rhysand."

I saw Rhys's fingers curl into a fist, and then it was done. The male fell senseless to the floor.

Amarantha snapped, "I said shatter his mind, not his brain." I almost snorted. What was the difference, really?

Rhys seemed to agree, because he merely shrugged, concealing his hand in his pocket again. "Apologies, my queen." There wasn't even a hint of respect in his voice, only bored disdain, as he turned and strode away. Amarantha's red lips turned down but she let him go.

I hurried to follow him and heard the whispers begin to rise from the crowd. "Whore," they hissed, just barely loud enough for him to hear as he passed by. I glanced at Rhys. Outwardly, he looked completely composed. Calm. Relaxed even. But inside—my heart broke for what I knew he must be feeling.

How many times had he been called upon to kill, or worse, to appease Amarantha? How many times had it been like this, where he had managed to eke the tiniest bit of good from a terrible situation, preserving the identities of the greater rebellion at the cost of one faerie's life, and yet everyone only saw the monster that he showed them, the monster that callously shattered minds out of sheer boredom. How many times had he led them to think the worst of him so they wouldn't notice his own small acts of rebellion, his own small acts that were the only mercy he could offer?

Falling into step beside him, I slid my arm through his. I held my head high, my expression aloof and as regal as a queen, and the whispers fell into confusion as the crowd tried to figure out if they should be insulting Rhys or me or the both of us. Before they could sort it out, we were past them all, to the banquet table at the back of the room.

As I drank my nightly wine, he downed his own goblet beside me. I met his eyes as we set the cups down simultaneously. Then, without a word, I took his hand and let him to our usual couch, pushing him down and climbing into his lap with my arms twined around his neck and my face buried against his shoulder. Hot tears pricked my eyes and tendrils of darkness suddenly swirled around him, hiding us suggestively in shadows. More importantly, obscuring my face while leaving his arrogant smirk clear for all to see, if they dared to look at him.

Grateful, I let my tears drip silently onto his neck. He wrapped one arm around my waist, caressing and soothing, and I wept silently for both of us, for the terrible choices we were forced to make, and for my High Lord who was the most hated of all.


	7. Chapter 7

I didn't expect to sleep that night but somehow I did, even if it was full of dark, half-remembered dreams. When the guards came to bring me to my second task, I was tired but calm.

It wasn't until I saw Amarantha, smirking down at me from her dias, that something inside me cracked. Rhys's nightmare came flowing back, the terror of it not at all dimmed by the brightly lit cavern. I could _see_ her writhing in ecstasy over my family as she tortured them.

 _Easy._ Rhys's voice in my head. I realized I'd frozen, pale and trembling, while the Attor leered at me. I arranged my face into a bored mask and folded my arms across my chest as I looked around the room, pointedly ignoring the creature.

"Well, Feyre," Amarantha smiled at me. "Your second trial has come. Have you solved my riddle yet?"

I just stared at her. I wouldn't give up the answer to the riddle this early, even if I _could_ speak to say the words—

I couldn't say the words. Alarm clanged through me. Even when it was time at the end, I wouldn't be able to speak to answer the riddle.

But beating Amarantha's tasks by itself hadn't been enough. I _had_ to be able to solve the riddle too.

I missed what Amarantha said next, but the floor moved beneath my feet and I was caught off guard, struggling to keep my balance. I scanned the room as it began to disappear from my sight, meeting Rhys's gaze briefly. He was frowning at whatever he saw on my face, or possibly the emotion he was reading from my thoughts.

Then all I could see was four walls—and Lucien. My hands fisted at my sides as I stared at him through the gate. He was chained to the floor and the nightmare again echoed through my mind, but I shoved it aside.

"Here, Feyre darling—" Loathing rolled through me at hearing that nickname from her lips. "You shall find your task. Simply answer the question by selecting the correct lever, and you'll win. Select the wrong one to your doom. As there are only three options, I think I gave you an unfair advantage."

With a snap of her fingers, metal groaned and the giant burning grates overhead began to lower. Involuntarily, I looked up at them and had to resist the urge to lunge for the levers immediately. The oppressive feeling of being trapped was almost overwhelming, but I forced myself to turn and face the wall with the riddle instead.

A tiny part of me had been curious about this moment. Not even having a fair chance at answering the riddle was what I considered one of my biggest failures. This time at least I would be able to read it and see if I truly could have solved it on my own. I didn't have very high expectations—riddles had never been my strong suit. But at least I'd have a chance.

But as I looked at the wall, something happened to my vision. The words rippled and swam, and for a moment the scent of the Tail's magic drowned out everything else.

Not fair. That was _not fair._ She had already taken my voice, now she would take my eyes too? I looked at Lucien, his panic plain, then again at that steadily lowering grate. Then back to the wall, which continued to be a rippling blur. The words were the only thing hidden from me.

Until that moment, I hadn't realized exactly how much I wanted a second shot at this task. It shouldn't have mattered so much. It was done and long past, but still—some part of me, perhaps a large part of me, had relished the chance to beat Amarantha fairly.

"Something wrong?" Amarantha trilled, interrupting my inner rage and disappointment. Glaring up at her through the holes in the grate, I stepped over to the levers. Without taking my eyes off of her, I slowly moved my hand over each one. Amarantha looked smugly amused.

Nothing happened. Not even a twinge from my tattooed arm. Apparently Rhys didn't think I needed help just yet. I hesitated. How important was it that he help me here?

The grate moved inevitably lower. "Just pick one!" Lucien screamed at me.

I turned my attention to the levers. Perhaps if I—

I reached decisively for the first lever. At the last second a jolt ran up my arm and I cringed back. _Rhys?_

I hadn't meant to call out to him and I almost jumped when he replied. _Yes, Feyre darling? Having some trouble with the riddle? I could help you out with that, if you'd care to renegotiate our bargain. I believe I mentioned something about a second week?_

I scowled, though I had the presence of mind to direct it at the levers and not look for him in the crowd above me. _Yes, let's make a new bargain right here in front of Amarantha and her entire court. I'm sure she won't mind that at all._

His chuckle echoed through my mind. _I suppose you'll just have to trust your instincts then._

I clenched my teeth and reached for the first lever again, receiving the same jolt as before. I repeated the gesture on the second lever with the same result, then the third—nothing. For good measure and to make sure anyone watching was convinced I was guessing blindly, I went over each of the levers again.

The spikes were only an arm's length from my head now and sweat rolled off my body from the heat. Lucien moaned in despair. I couldn't wait much longer. _Feyre …_

I lunged for the third lever.

The grate froze, then began to rise slowly. As soon as it cleared the lip of the pit, I sucked in great gulps of the cool air. I checked Lucian as best as I could through the gate, but he didn't seem to be harmed, just tremendously relieved. I didn't dare look at Rhys.

My knees were trembling. Even as it slowly vanished from sight, I still couldn't read the damn riddle. What other surprises might the Tail's magic have in store for me?

And how was I going to manage to answer the _other_ riddle? Without that, everything failed. _Change nothing_ , the Tail had said, but what if the magic itself forced the change? There had to be some way around it. There had to be.

The floor beneath me had been steadily rising and I was swaying unsteadily, still gasping for breath. I felt like I couldn't get enough air.

 _Deep breaths, slowly. Don't let her see your fear._ The familiar voice in my head steadied me. I sucked in a long breath and placed one hand, my tattooed left arm, over my racing heart. Rhys had talked me through this last time and now he was here for me again. I clung to that tether between us, letting it ground me. My pulse slowed, my breathing evened out, and by the time I faced Amarantha I was composed, if not defiant.

I didn't wait for Rhys to guide me further. I gave Amarantha a long stare, then scanned the room in disgust, letting all of the assembled gawking faeries know exactly how I felt about this spectacle. And then I turned my back on them all and walked away.

As soon as I was safely alone in my cell, my knees gave out and I crumpled to the floor. I hadn't even wanted to change anything, just see what might've been if I could actually read the riddle, but even that had been taken from me. My mouth opened in a soundless scream of rage that was wholly unsatisfying.

But my anger wasn't strong enough to distract me for long. Soon enough I had to face what was truly bothering me.

How would I answer the riddle after my third trial? And what would happen if I couldn't? Amarantha would still be forced to release us—eventually. Rhysand had been fighting back. Tamlin would likely fight as well, as soon as he healed enough to do so. But Amarantha would still hold their power in check, and I—I would die. But there would be no High Lords ready to revive me before it was too late.

The thoughts circled around and around in my head until they were replaced with numb exhaustion.

I barely noticed when Rhys melted out of the darkness and stood looking down at me where I sat bonelessly against a wall, knees drawn up to my chest and face buried in my folded arms. Even he couldn't help me now.

"You've just beaten her second task. After making your point so adamantly, and repeatedly, that we're on the same side," his voice was full of wry amusement, "is it really so dreadful that you needed my help?"

I felt very, very small. He didn't know what I'd done. Or what I was going to do, or not do. It was complicated and I couldn't tell him any of it anyway.

I didn't realize he'd knelt before me until he pried my arms apart, forcing me to look at him. "You're one task away from winning," he breathed and I shuddered as I felt his scent wash over me, his warmth seeping into my hands where he gripped them.

His violet eyes danced in the darkness, flecked with stars, and I realized with astonishment that this was the moment he truly began to hope. What I saw as one of my greatest failures, he saw as the first real step to victory. To freedom.

It mattered to him, I saw at last, that he had been able to do something _good_ for once. Decades of waiting, helpless, as Amarantha's willing slave and executioner of all manner of horrors.

But now, Rhys was waking up and remembering what he was fighting for, even when fighting had merely meant submission. Remembering all those who loved him and waited for his return. And for the first time in those long years, he had _hope_.

His expression was full of wonder and he leaned in slowly. Unlike after his nightmare when it had caught me, and perhaps him, completely by surprise, this time he moved with deliberation, giving me plenty of time to understand and stop him if I wanted to.

I didn't. I couldn't only watch breathlessly as the space between us narrowed and he pressed his lips gently to mine. My eyes drifted shut and something warm uncurled deep in my belly. He pulled back just enough to run his eyes over my face, assessing my reaction. I didn't wait for him to draw any conclusions, just leaned into him, pulling him into a second, longer kiss. His hands dropped my wrists to cradle my head and I gripped his shoulders.

When we at last parted again, we were both flushed. He rested his forehead against mine, fingers stroking the nape of my neck. The bond between us sang. "Clever thing," he laughed softly. "How do you burrow past my mask so easily? No one else has seen anything but a monster for 49 years."

 _They see what you want them to see. You only do what you have to do._ My hands slid down his arms, feeling the muscles beneath his jacket. _We're the same that way, you and I._

He went still and I felt a tug on the bond. "What a High Fae you would have made," he breathed, and I knew he was at last admitting to himself what the connection between us could mean.

My heart sank. I wasn't a High Fae, and I never would be. I let my hands drop back to my lap, my head falling back against the wall. Rhys studied me, head tilted. "What is it?" _Talk to me, Feyre._

But I couldn't. I shut my eyes against the tears that were gathering.

Rhys stood and I could feel his perplexity as he frowned down at me. At last he had to give in to my silence, though I suspected he wouldn't let it go. "I'll spare you the escort duties tomorrow, but the night after that, I expect you to be looking your finest." There was a hint of his normal teasing tone, but it was overlaid with concern.

I didn't react, opening my eyes only when I knew he had gone.

As promised, he left me alone the next day, but every now and then I felt that gentle tug on the bond, as if he was reassuring himself that I was still there.

And after that, our nights resumed their normal pattern.

I was bathed, painted and dressed. When Rhys came for me, we didn't speak, but he always spent long minutes watching me as he leaned against the wall and waited for the wraiths to finish with me. I knew he was deliberately arriving early to give me time to talk, if I wanted to.

I didn't want to. And when he handed me my wine, I could no longer meet his eyes.

I had stopped all of my plotting. It felt useless when I was going to destroy everything. Would there even be a future for me to return to if I wasn't Remade? I drank the wine and wished it would drown me as completely as it used to. I danced, but only as long as I felt I had to, then spent the rest of the evening at Rhys's feet, resting my head on his knee until he sent me away. Sometimes he would run his fingers through my hair or over my shoulders, gestures that looked possessive to anyone watching but I knew were meant to comfort, the only thing he could do that wouldn't look suspicious. I clung to his leg, sometimes squeezing his ankle, one of the few invisible things I could do to reciprocate his attention.

Some nights it felt like we were propping each other up, alternating waves of dread and hope pulsing between us. The third task loomed over us, drawing relentlessly closer, winding the tension more tightly with each night. The end was coming, one way or another.

One evening, as I was half-drowsing in my usual spot, Rhys's fingers suddenly stilled in my hair. I opened my eyes to slits, glancing toward the throne to see if another staring contest with Tamlin was starting, but he had long since stopped paying any attention to us. I felt a momentary pang for the lost love that I was supposed to be fighting for. Tamlin had no idea that his last happy memories with the female he loved were already long past.

Rhys shifted, jostling me enough that I lifted my head, then blinked in surprise at what I saw. A female I didn't recognize had settled on the couch next to Rhys and was murmuring softly into his ear. Her legs were tucked delicately under her as she faced him, leaning close enough that even with my pathetic human nose I could smell her perfume. Her dress was almost as sheer as mine, though at least there was more to it, and the slight smile on Rhys's face said that he appreciated the view.

I scowled and pinched his ankle. His eyes slid to mine and amusement danced down the bond. _Jealous, Feyre?_ "Get us some wine," he said aloud, jiggling his leg to shake me loose like some unwanted insect.

I knew I couldn't defy him publicly without compromising the roles we were playing, but that didn't stop me from sending a vulgar gesture mentally. Outwardly, I just pursed my lips, climbed to my feet, and headed for the banquet table sulkily. The female's tittering laugh as I obeyed so easily kindled a spark of anger that I couldn't quite extinguish.

I filled two heavy goblets with wine, debated spitting in one of them, and turned to go back to Rhys, but someone stepped in front of me, blocking my path. Another faerie I didn't recognize, this one a male. And making his interest in me very obvious. He was all but drooling as he looked me up and down. I had long since learned to ignore the stares of the crowd as a whole, but to have one specific person seek me out just to ogle me—it felt too personal. I couldn't ignore it and I didn't like it.

"So, the whore finally let his little pet off the leash," he slurred, and his obvious drunkenness endeared him to me even less. "Does that mean he's willing to share?" He leered at me.

I cocked my head at him and smiled coyly, almost an invitation. I set the goblets back on the table, sweeping my gaze over the male blatantly as I did so. He preened, his lecherous smile growing.

I twirled in a slow circle, swaying my hips lazily as I showed off my body for his perusal. I ran the fingers of one hand down the open sides of my dress, starting near my breasts, down my hips and ending at my thighs, leaving a trail of ruined paint in my wake. His eyes followed the movement intently. I stepped closer, looking up at him through lowered lashes.

And then I slapped him as hard as I could.

I doubt my puny human strength did much more than stun him, but I had picked up the wine and was halfway back to Rhys before I heard a shout from behind me. Rhys and the female, who had maneuvered herself almost into his lap, both turned to look. _Someone mussed my paint,_ I told him smugly, stopping beside the couch and turning to face the irate faerie who was now storming toward us. A blue handprint stood out vividly on his reddened cheek.

Darkness exploded, engulfing the couch. I heard the female gasp. The male stopped his approach so quickly he almost tripped over his own feet. I snuck a glance to the side. Rhys's eyes glittered from the center of that dark maelstrom, a reminder of who and what he was. The male sketched a hasty bow and changed direction, almost running from the room.

The whole exchange had attracted very little attention, partially because it was well into the night and everyone was too drunk to care, partially because everyone was used to _not_ noticing the Lord of Nightmares, lest they draw his ire.

The dark tendrils slowly withdrew, revealing Rhys still seated comfortably as if nothing had happened, arms stretched casually across the back of the couch. The female was wide-eyed, frozen with one long leg stretched across Rhys's lap and one hand splayed on his chest, almost touching the bare skin at his throat.

I stepped between his legs and held out one of the goblets. He lifted an arm from behind the female, leaning forward slightly as he reached for the wine. The motion pushed the female back just enough that she broke free of her paralysis, scrambling inelegantly away, her expression twisted in fear.

I glanced boredly after her, then shrugged and took a long drink from the second goblet before settling myself on Rhys's now-empty lap, my knees on either side of his hips. His free hand curled around my waist and his eyes were sparkling with amusement. _Aren't you a clever thing?_ His voice was a sensual purr.

Then his gaze turned piercing. _How long have you been immune to the wine?_

I went still, then decided I didn't care. _Not immune. I've never been so drunk. I might make poor choices._ I rolled my hips ever so subtly against his and had the pleasure of seeing his eyes darken. _And I spend half of every day with a hangover to match,_ I added with a scowl.

His fingers traced the ruined patterns on my waist and down my hips, making me shiver. _And here I thought I was sparing you, so you wouldn't have to remember_ — _all of this_. His thoughts were edged with sadness, though none of it showed on his face.

I touched his cheek, meeting his gaze. _How un-monster-like,_ I teased, then added more seriously, _the only eyes in this room that I care about are yours._ His brows raised, and I fired through the bond quickly, _if you mention Tamlin while I'm sitting half-naked in your lap_ — _I might get the wrong idea._

He almost lost his composure then, hiding his laugh as he took a long drink from his wine. I was facing him, my expression hidden from the world, so I took the opportunity to grin openly at him. He vanished both our goblets, gripping my hips with both hands as he shifted as if getting more comfortable. The movement generated just enough delicious friction between my legs to set my whole body tingling. My lips parted in a soundless gasp.

"Time for you to go to bed," he said with a lazy smile.

 _Yours?_ I couldn't resist asking.

 _Wicked,_ he shot back, his voice full of such dark promise that a shudder ran through me. His nostrils flared. _Get out of here before everyone notices that you're enjoying yourself._

I pouted, but it was a good point, one I hadn't thought of. Faerie noses would definitely notice if I was attracted to Rhys rather than his unwilling puppet. Still, that didn't stop me from adding a bit of extra sway to my hips as I slid off his lap and sashayed away.

I lay awake that night, wondering if he might come to me, or summon me to his room. Somewhere along the way, I had decided that if I could fulfill my mission, if I could sleep with Rhys, the magic would release me and I would be able to answer the riddle and make sure events played out as they should.

There was no logical reason for my assumption—I was just tired of drowning in despair, so I told myself the magic had set the rules and it wouldn't have charged a price that caused me to break them. There had to be a way around it, and the only thing I could think of was that finally sleeping with Rhys would break the curse.

Late in the night, just as I was about to drift off, I felt—something. Not a tug, but _something_.

I tried a tug of my own. _Rhys?_ Maybe he was asleep. Another nightmare? I traced my way carefully down the bond. A solid wall of darkness met me at the other end. Whatever Rhys was doing, he wasn't sharing. _Rhys?_

Something shoved me away, hard. I jolted back into my body, but not before I caught a glimpse of Amarantha, nude, back arched in ecstasy as she writhed above me. Above Rhys.

I cringed, swallowing bile and curled into a ball on top of my rough pallet. _I'm sorry,_ I sent, not knowing if he could hear me behind the walls where he hid his revulsion at the actions he was forced to perform.


	8. Chapter 8

I didn't hear from him again until the next night, when he appeared at the usual time. Nuala and Cerridwen hastily put the finishing touches on my hair and makeup and then faded away.

I spun to face Rhys anxiously, reading the tension in his features that probably no one else but me—and maybe the wraiths—would notice. _Tell me._

"Someone noticed your little performance the other night," he said without preamble.

I stiffened. _Amarantha. So what?_

He prowled toward me, carefully watching my reaction, for what I didn't know. "She's convinced we've become lovers."

I met his gaze, tilting my chin up. _So?_

He eyed me. _Have you really forgotten Tamlin so quickly?_ I flinched, and he apparently took it as confirmation of whatever he'd been looking for. "She considers it a victory," he said, turning away and clasping his hands behind his back as he paced. "And she's jealous."

I snorted, and he raised an eyebrow at me over his shoulder. I couldn't even put into words what I meant. We weren't lovers, though I wished we were. But I also wouldn't want Amarantha to know if we truly were, since my tasks hinged on proving my love to Tamlin. And whether we were or not, the idea of a High Fae like Amarantha being jealous of a puny human was ridiculous. I sent Rhys a burst of the tangled, conflicting feelings of frustration and was rewarded with a hint of laughter in his eyes.

Then his expression dimmed again. "The point is, she's going to be keeping me _very_ busy for a while."

I felt as if a hand had seized my heart and squeezed. _I'm sorry._

Rhys shook his head dismissively. "A jealous Amarantha is an unstable Amarantha. That's how we want her, in the end." He stopped and turned to face me fully. "Things are going to get messy very quickly after your third task." I froze, not even daring to think. "I don't suppose you've figured out her riddle? She's forbidden everyone from helping you, even with the slightest hint."

I kept my face still and shook my head slowly. He eyed me and I wasn't sure if he bought my answer. "Too bad. We could all walk out of here right now. But with the tasks—" He cut off suddenly, and I wondered if Amarantha had also ordered everyone not to give away the flaw in our bargain.

I bowed my head. _I know._

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "In the end I suppose it just means a lot of early nights for you and a lot of long ones for me."

I stepped forward and twined my arms around his waist. _If you need me, for anything at all, you know where to find me._ Something in his gaze shuttered and I narrowed my eyes at him in return. _I mean that as your friend, Rhys. If you wanted my body, I'd give it to you, gladly. But also if you just need someone to talk to, or someone who will lie beside you without making demands._

I tugged him down to my level and pressed a kiss to his forehead. _There isn't much time left, but you don't have to spend it alone._

His arms came around me and he buried his face in my neck, breathing deeply. _Thank you,_ he said, very, very quietly through the bond. So quietly that I wasn't sure he really intended me to hear it.

When he stepped back a moment later, his mask of bored arrogance was firmly in place. "Come, we'll be late," he said, gesturing to me with a snap of his fingers.

I fell into step beside him, shaping my face into my own mask as I pretended not to notice the exhaustion and sorrow that had rippled through the bond in those moments, even as my eyes burned with unshed tears in response.

I felt a shift in our relationship in the days that followed. We were still silently propping each other up, but even more carefully now that we'd attracted Amarantha's attention. In spite of what Rhys had said about wanting her unstable, neither of us dared push too far. Some days it was only a mental caress or a tug on the bond for reassurance, but it was enough. Barely.

It might have been merely my own heightened anxiety as the third task drew closer, but I felt like everyone, not just Amarantha, was watching us more closely.

There were no more incidents with drunken males, for all that Rhys took to leaving me on my own more often. Sometimes he would linger at Amarantha's side at the start of the night, sending me to wait against the far wall. Sometimes he would send me to dance through the crowd instead of solely for his own entertainment. Sometimes he would merely send me back to my cell earlier. The delicate balance of trying to keep Amarantha jealous without sending her completely over the edge made my head spin as much as any faerie wine.

As for Rhys, he had always been unnaturally pale Under the Mountain, but now—his mask was a only thin veneer, concealing shadowed features that had nothing to do with his own darkness. We were so close to the end and I prayed to anyone listening that he could hold on just a little longer.

And I cursed Amarantha's jealous eyes, because at the time when I needed to be closest to my mate, she was forcing him to send me away. Though I doubted his attempts to show less interest in me were succeeding.

For my part, I knew my days were numbered. I wasn't sure exactly when the third task would be, but it had to be close. Barring any surprises, the only chance I would have with Rhys would be right near the end of my time here. The night before the task, when he'd shown up in my cell, worn down and vulnerable. We were close enough now that I thought it could work, if that witch didn't break him before then. If she didn't leave him completely repulsed by the thought of being touched by _anyone._

I was heading for Rhys's chambers with my wraith escorts, lost in my worries for him, when abruptly the shadows veiling us darkened dramatically, jolting me back to reality as I was pulled into a hidden alcove. A hand was clapped over my mouth but before I could panic, the scent of jasmine washed over me and the tension leached from my body. Home, the wraiths smelled like home.

Reassured that I was being protected and not attacked, I became aware of a conversation happening on the other side of the tapestry that concealed us.

I listened to the Attor promising the High Lords' armies to Hybern and fear momentarily paralyzed me. That was what would happen if I didn't succeed here.

I tried to imagine a future where Hybern arrived to find the combined Prythian armies waiting not to fight against him but to serve him, however unwillingly, under Amarantha's rule. The mortal lands wouldn't stand a chance. They wouldn't even know it was coming.

The conversation continued, but I didn't hear it. I _had_ to succeed. I had to. If I had to tell Rhys everything, that risk was better than failure. I vowed to do exactly that, if worse came to worst.

We waited in hiding until long after the hall was empty before the wraiths' shadows relaxed into their normal darkness and the tapestry vanished. I didn't speak, just gestured for them to continue, and they proceeded with the evening's preparations in unflappable silence.

But when Rhys arrived, I turned to face him even though my makeup wasn't quite finished. _We're running out of time,_ I told him, and nodded at the wraiths.

He glanced between Nuala and Cerridwen and I knew they were sharing the earlier conversation with him, possibly even letting him experience it through their eyes. It took only seconds, and then they spoke, one after the other.

"She was afraid."

"But then she was resolved."

Rhys raised his brows. I don't think he'd expected them to vouch for me. That they did it out loud, so I would know what they said, was practically a public declaration of loyalty. Without another word, they quickly finished my make-up and left.

"It seems you've made more unlikely allies," he murmured, studying me with interest. "Most people find them—unsettling."

I bared my teeth at him. _Us monsters have to stick together._

He gave me a small, tired smile that I found more alarming than reassuring. Once he would have responded to my taunt in kind. _Save that enthusiasm for the war,_ he said at last, and I felt the weight behind his words. Rhys was spreading himself thin, not just to survive Amarantha, but in preparation for what came next.

 _One battle at a time, love,_ I whispered gently down the bond, hastily strangling off the last word. An echo of it may have gotten through, because his eyes widened. I slid off my stool and headed smoothly for the door, keeping my breathing slow and even, and willing my heart not to race.

He still reached the door first holding it open for me. I didn't look at him as I swept through and began the icy trek to the throne room. He said nothing as he fell into step beside me and for once I was grateful for his exhaustion, if it kept him from pushing the matter.

But as we walked those silent empty halls, his right hand slid around the tattooed fingers of my left, warming them with a gentle squeeze.

A few uneventful days later, as Nuala and Cerridwen were preparing me for another endless night, I was deep in thought and didn't hear Rhys slip in behind me.

"A thought for a thought?" Velvet and midnight words brushed against my ear and a shudder rippled down my back. My head lolled back on my shoulders before I snapped my spine straight and twisted around to glare daggers at Rhys. Starlight danced in his eyes and I knew he could sense every bit of the reaction that had rocked my body.

_You. Are. The worst._

"Ah, so you _were_ thinking about me," he said with a smirk, sprawling nonchalantly in the chair across from me. I eyed him. He looked more rested than he had in a while. Perhaps his attempts to assuage Amarantha's jealousy were working.

I huffed. _I was thinking about the future._ I started to fold my arms across my chest and then realized the obscene things that did to the flimsy strips of fabric that made up the front of my dress. I settled for twisting my fingers together in my lap.

"Ah yes, the future you'll spend with dear Tamlin." He paused, flicking a piece of invisible dirt from his sleeve. "And myself, of course. Oh my, what will people think?" He leered at me.

I pursed my lips. He was trying to rile me with his insinuations, but I knew the game we were playing as well as he did. _You know what they're going to think. You're Amarantha's Whore._ I saw his expression shutter, even though my tone hadn't been accusatory. _And you've made me into your harlot. You know_ exactly _what they're going to think._

Cauldron, I hadn't meant to snap at him. We were both being pushed to our limits. I stood and faced him, placing my hands gently on his shoulders and waiting until he looked up at me. _Let them think what they want. The only people that matter know the truth._ He was still beneath my touch. They were his own words, words he hadn't given me yet.

After a moment, I tilted my head inquiringly. _A thought for a thought?_

He exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. The bond rippled between us. I felt the moment he opened to me, at last admitting the truth to himself.

He stood, cupping my chin in his hands. I felt like I was drowning in the depths of his violet eyes. _I was thinking that you're wasted on Tamlin. Were you High Fae, you would be the best of us._

My breath caught in my throat and I struggled to remember that I was human Feyre and not High Lady Feyre. _You hardly know me._

 _I know enough._ I felt his dark claws caressing the walls of my mind. Not a threat, but a reminder nonetheless of how easily he could find out anything he wanted.

I broke free of his grip, both physical and mental. Dancing back a few steps, a wicked grin curled my lips as I drew an invisible line in the air. _Mark this day. The High Lord of the Night Court said I, a mere human, was better than him._

He laughed, a quiet laugh but real, and I was lost again, watching the candlelight flicker over the lines of his neck, his lips, the corners of his eyes that were wrinkled in mirth.

His joyful expression faded too soon. "Your third task is tomorrow," he said casually, watching me.

I hadn't been worried about the second task. I wasn't worried, per se, about the third one. But I fumbled for my chair before my knees could buckle beneath me.

No, I wasn't worried. What I was feeling was _dread_. The faces of the two fairies I had killed—would kill—flashed before my eyes and I dismissed the images hastily, lest Rhys pick up on them.

He slid forward to kneel before me, gathering my trembling hands in his. _You can do this,_ his voice whispered to me. _One last task, and it's done._

I lifted my chin and met his eyes evenly. _I know I can. And I'll finish it if it's the last thing I do._ I tried to make my mental voice strong and determined, but it still wobbled a bit.

Sparks flashed in Rhys's dark violet gaze. "Don't say that," he growled. "Humans have such short lives, but you're going to live out every last decade of yours. If I have to come up with ridiculous bargains for every other week of your life, _you're going to live._ "

I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. He'd been thinking about it, I realized. About what it might be like to have a life after this, to once again spend time with friends and loved ones. To spend time with _me_. _Rhys …_

He pulled me close, leaned his forehead against mine. _One more day._ His mental voice washed over me, warming me. _Tomorrow at this time, we'll be celebrating._

I breathed deeply, inhaling citrus and the sea. I wanted to hold that familiar aroma inside forever, but I forced my breathing to remain slow and steady, and focused on bringing any scraps of hope and stubbornness and reassurance that I had left to the forefront of my mind. _First we have to get through tonight._ Inside, I was quaking, but I couldn't let him see that.

He nodded and stood, drawing me to my feet along with him. "One last dance," he purred, offering me his arm.

I blushed at the insinuation and then narrowed my eyes at him. _Promise?_ I asked with saccharine sweetness. Amusement, muted but still there, danced in his eyes.

Then I steeled myself for what was to come. Rhys didn't know it, but tonight was going to be awful in its own way.

As we entered the throne room, he dismissed me to wait for him as usual, as if tonight was no different from any other night and not the last time we'd ever be playing this game. I went to stand in my usual place along the wall. No one looked at me. Not many looked at Rhys, though they edged away subtly as he passed. I lost sight of him through the crowd. My eyes darted to Amarantha's throne. She was also off somewhere mingling. I focused on my breathing, on keeping my heart from racing and giving me away.

I hated this part most, I decided. The waiting. When I knew what was coming, but could only wait for it to happen. Wondering _if_ it would happen or if I had managed to mess everything up. I realized I was nibbling on my lower lip and stopped, smoothing my features into a blank mask.

Then I sensed him. A presence sidling up next to me, with a silence as intense as an approaching storm. I couldn't move. The smell of rain and earth washed over me and I swallowed thickly.

Tamlin's fingers touched mine.

I felt as if I was made of stone. _Move,_ I begged my body. _Move._

My fingers twitched against his.

It was enough. He strolled away through the crowd, subtly glancing over his shoulder to see if I followed. I took half a step forward and that was all the indication he needed. He continued on his way, not looking back again. My eyes jumped ahead to the tapestry and the small door mostly out of sight behind it.

I began to make my way around the room. I didn't have to keep an eye on Tamlin since I already knew where he was heading. I scooped up a goblet of wine as I passed the banquet table, pretending to sip it as I wandered around the edges of the room.

The tapestry loomed before me, the door behind it opening silently, just enough for me to slip through.

Inside—darkness. I had long grown comfortable with the dark. It was as much a part of me as all the other abilities I had inherited from the High Lords. I had learned how to wield it and how to read it. This darkness was fraught with secrets. Heavy with expectation. Oppressively waiting.

Then Tamlin was on me. His lips devoured mine, his hands were everywhere. I flung my arms around his neck as the momentum of his lunge left us staggering drunkenly around the little alcove and was surprised to find the goblet still clutched in one of my hands. He bit my neck and I gasped, then ground my teeth as he squeezed one of my breasts, hard.

 _Play the role,_ I told myself. _If Rhys can do this every night for years, you can do it one time._ I reached for his belt buckle and tugged. He slid forward, pressing me against the wall and grinding against me. Lightning shot through me and I writhed in his grip.

No.

 _No,_ I didn't want this.

Someone coughed and Tamlin froze. _Rhys._ I slumped in relief, glad that in the dark it would look enough like disappointment that no one would notice.

"Shameful," Rhys purred, prowling toward us out of the darkness. "Just shameful. Look at what you've done to my pet," he tutted, his eyes trailing over me. I squirmed against Tamlin's grip, aware of the mess of paint and disheveled fabric that was all that remained of my flimsy outfit.

Then he looked at Tamlin, and his eyes were chips of cold, cruel crystal. "Amarantha would be greatly aggrieved if she knew her little warrior was dallying with the human help," he continued, his voice soft and deadly. "I wonder how she'd punish you. Or perhaps she'd stay true to habit and punish Lucien. He still has one eye to lose, after all. Maybe she'll put it in a ring, too."

Tamlin released me with agonizing slowness, but I stayed pressed against the wall, trying to keep my knees from buckling. I watched as Tamlin straightened his clothes and I silently reached for the comfort of my bond with Rhys. It was—dim.

My eyes shot to Rhys, but he wasn't looking at me, still marking Tamlin with that punishing glare. "Enjoy the party," he crooned, and I glanced back to see Tamlin looking completely unruffled, as if he hadn't been about to ravish me moments before. Even the smears of paint had vanished, courtesy of Rhys.

Tamlin met my eyes as he turned to leave. "I love you," he said, to my horror. I could only stare at him, until the light from the door briefly blinded me and I had to look away. At Rhys.

His expression hadn't changed, and a chill rippled down my back to have that deadly gaze turned upon me. I plucked at the bond, but he had withdrawn, walled himself off from me completely.

He chuckled darkly. "You almost had me fooled, Feyre darling." I froze as he sauntered closer, his hands tucked into his pockets. "I knew there was something off in your pretty little head tonight. You didn't have to pretend, you know. I would have helped you even if you really wanted—that." He gestured after Tamlin, disgust dripping from his words.

I felt like he was driving a spike into my heart with every word, but an instant later rage enveloped me.

I pushed off the wall and in the same motion I swung my arm and slapped him as hard as I could. I used my left arm, my less dominant arm, slightly weaker but I wanted to hit him with those tattoos he was so proud of. And I might have been a weak human, but I had still learned to punch from Cassian. He actually staggered back a step, shock twisting his expression.

I took a long drink from my goblet, swirling the wine in my mouth to clear the taste of Tamlin from my tongue. Then I spat on the ground and tossed the goblet aside so that it clattered into the darkness. Rhys had watched my actions with increasing confusion and before he could recover I threw myself at him.

My arms banded around his waist and I buried my face in his chest, breathing him in until the scent of spring was completely drowned out. His hands went to my shoulders as he steadied the both of us and I looked up at him. His eyes were wide and startled and I at last felt a tentative touch tremble along the bond.

 _Kiss me,_ I begged, pushing myself up on my toes in an effort to reach him. His hands flexed on my shoulders and then he swiftly closed the gap between us.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. I could feel his anger, his sense of betrayal, as his tongue plunged into my mouth possessively. My hands fisted in his silky hair as I arched against him, forgetting everything in that moment except my need to be close to him, closer—

 _More,_ I begged silently, and he froze.

I drew back in confusion, only then realizing the room had been flooded with light. My head whipped to the side to see Amarantha and Tamlin, a crowd of High Fae peeking around behind them.

I had known what was coming, but I had still managed to completely lose myself in that one moment with Rhys. My face flushed and I realized I was still wrapped around him. It was _very_ obvious that I had been a willing participant in what we had been doing.

I tried to pull away, to straighten the bits of fabric that I could, but Rhys had an iron grip on my arm before I could get very far. He was watching Amarantha with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Well, well," she drawled. "We all suspected, but how long has this been going on, Rhysand?" He merely gave her a lazy shrug, but she had already turned away, patting Tamlin's arm as she glared at me. "Typical human trash with their inconsistent, dull hearts."

She led her entourage away from the door and Rhys followed, dragging me by the arm.

In the brilliant light of the throne room, I looked—exactly like the harlot they expected me to be. My paint was a smeared mess and my dress was twisted until it concealed next to nothing. Rhys's hands were covered in paint as well, even some on his neck from when I had clung to him. If he hadn't been wearing his signature black suit, he would have been as much of a mess as I was.

Rhys thrust me away and I stumbled, trying to cover myself. "I'm tired of you for tonight," he said boredly, already turning away to follow Amarantha. "Go back to your cell." I bowed my head and hurried from the room as if broken with shame.

Once safely in my cell, I curled into a ball on my thin pallet and waited. The memory of Tamlin's hands on me made me feel dirty, but it was Rhys's rage-filled kiss that bothered me more. How could he possibly believe I had betrayed him?

But there was no more time for plotting and planning and second-guessing. All I could do was wait for him to come to me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everyone has their own idea for the song mentioned in this chapter, but for me it's To The Stars from Dragonheart.

Hours passed. Eventually I drowsed, clinging to the bond between us, though it remained dim and closed down.

Something woke me and I opened my eyes to see Rhys, slumped against the wall nearby, watching me. I jolted upright. _How long have you been there?_

"You were drooling," he deadpanned.

I swiped at my mouth self-consciously, then glared at him. _I wasn't!_

He chuckled, then sighed. "No more games, Feyre."

I only nodded, sliding to the floor across from him, my back against the pallet, our knees almost touching.

His eyes glinted in the dim light. "Did you plan it? Tonight? All of it?"

I chose my words carefully. _I thought Tamlin might try something. I took advantage of the moment._

"Took _advantage_ of it?" he growled. "Took advantage _how_? What exactly was your plan? If I hadn't interrupted you—"

 _I knew you would,_ I cut in, silencing him. _I knew you would come._ I reached out, touching his knee tentatively. _I knew you would come for me._

He snorted, tipping his head back against the wall. "You really do think I'm wrapped around your mortal fingers, don't you?"

I made a vulgar gesture, showing him exactly what my mortal fingers were good for, and then, since he wasn't really looking, I sent the image down the bond as well. His lips twitched but he did not smile.

"One wrong move tomorrow, Feyre, and we're all doomed."

I swallowed. Or one wrong word. One missing word.

"And if you fail," Rhys mused dismally, "then Amarantha will rule forever."

I reached out again, not physically this time, but with my thoughts. _Have hope, Rhys. Believe in me. You have to believe in me._

He looked at me then, something softening in his eyes, and he sighed, giving me a small smile. "Impossibly enough, I do. If I believe in nothing else anymore, I believe in you, Feyre." The way he said my name was an intimate purr and my breath caught, but then he dropped his head back against the wall tiredly.

"Sometimes it feels like everything outside Amarantha's court is just a dream and the only reality is down here in the darkness."

 _Poor High Lord of the Night Court, bothered by a little darkness,_ I teased. He didn't react so I jabbed his leg. _Rhys._ He opened one eye lazily, but I could see the weariness that he tried to hide.

I plucked at the bond between us, letting down my shields more than I ever had before. Letting him see some small measure of my true emotions, of all the hopes and dreams that filled my heart. _The darkest nights reveal the brightest stars,_ I said gently. He gave me his full attention then, something like wonder entering his eyes.

I had spent so much time agonizing over what I needed to do, but now that I was here, in this moment all I felt was love. This male before me, my mate, who didn't yet know all of the beautiful things that were in his future. I scooted forward so that our knees were touching.

_I have one more dream to show you …_

I let the thought trail off, hesitating, waiting for his permission. Only at his thoughtful nod did I slide into his lap, cupping his face in my hands. I rested my forehead against his, mimicking the gesture he had made earlier. I stroked the bond between us. _Let me in,_ I whispered along it. _Let me show you._

It took him a long moment. I got the impression he had planned to stay buried deeply behind his shields until after this was all over, but for me—he would open for me.

I slipped inside fearlessly, no thoughts within my head but those of love. I felt his awe at the depth of my emotions, but I was distracted by realizing how much he already cared for me, how much he had cared even before I stumbled with such reckless determination into Amarantha's grasp. I could have done absolutely nothing differently and he still would have loved me long before now. Tears pricked at my eyes and I felt a mixture of concern, curiosity and confusion from him as he sensed my muddled thoughts.

 _Focus,_ I told myself. I breathed deeply, filling my nose with citrus and the sea.

And then I thought of music.

He went still beneath me, so very still. I knew the instant he recognized what he was hearing. Once upon a time, when I had needed it most, he had given me a song.

And now I was giving it back to him.

It started quietly, rising like mist to paint a dreamscape. The cell around us faded into darkness, but not the darkness of Under the Mountain. It was the vast endless darkness of the night sky, peppered with glittering constellations and swirling galaxies. It was the scent of snow on the wind. It was the feeling of soaring through the brisk air and of being a tiny speck swimming in an inky sea of brilliant lights.

The music rose and carried us with it. We followed it over glittering snow-capped mountains and through clouds prickling with water vapor. Hand in hand in that strange dreamspace that I had created, we flew over evergreen forests and fields full of wildflowers, until at last we came to a city. I didn't need to think the name before Rhys was breathing it through my mind like a blessing. _Velaris._

We streaked over the city, faster than wings could ever carry us, comets leaving trails of stardust in our wake, but somehow there was still time to take in everything. Brightly lit buildings, music that mixed and blended with the tune that now sang in our hearts, people who were colorful, cheerful blurs in the night. They were happy. _Safe_. As we blew past, the music was a living, pulsing thing and the city around us danced to its beat.

Time slowed to a crawl and I didn't have to point out one particular rooftop to Rhys as we approached it. His attention zeroed in on it, on the people who were dancing atop it.

It was one of my favorite memories from my first year in Velaris. Mor, Azriel and Cassian, all three of them dancing together. Their arms reached for each other and for the sky, and they moved as if this was their first, last and only dance together and they meant to savor every second of it. There was joy in that dance, and peace, and life, and hope. Above them on a balcony, Amren smiled and sipped from a silver goblet that matched her eyes, radiating confidence and security, promising protection for all that had been left under her care.

Somewhere back in reality, Rhys was rigid beneath me, as if any movement, any breath, might tear this away from him. I could feel his yearning, how he ached to reach for them, to join them.

But he knew even here in this place of dreams, that was impossible.

 _Tell me again about impossible things,_ I whispered to him, and then I spun us in place, the earth and sky blurring before us until we were facing back the way we'd come, the glittering city laid out before us. _Look up, and tell me._

Because it was Starfall. And we were the stars.

He looked, and I felt something break inside of him. Some well of misery that had been slowly drowning him was shattered and began to drain away as he stared at those streamers of endless glittering light, a sight that had been denied him for decades. The music crescendoed, crashing over us with a tidal wave of joy and heartbreak, a brilliant rainbow of sound and emotion that carried us up into the star-streaked night.

There was nothing in that sky but us and the stars and the music and the joyous revelry of the night. We danced and spun and sparkled and twirled and glittered. There was no Amarantha, no Under the Mountain, no sorrow—only blissful dreams where everything was lovely and kind and filled with light.

Rhys shuddered beneath me. His face was wet with tears, as I knew mine was. It felt so close, just barely out of reach, that beautiful dream full of happiness and love. He was thrumming with the need for it, the overwhelming desire to have it, have all of it, everything he had lost. Everything that I assured him was still out there.

And it was worth it. All that we had endured, everything we had faced, it was all _worth it._

 _I would do it again,_ I whispered to him, deep within that dream. _This is what we're fighting for and I would do it all again a hundred times over if it led me to you._

He took over the dreamscape so easily and naturally that I was momentarily adrift, floating aimlessly in his mind, before he swept me up again into a song that built and built. I was barely aware that his lips had covered mine and my hands had tangled in his hair, that our bodies had slid even closer together as if to mirror the intertwining of our minds.

The sudden softness of silk sheets beneath my legs jostled me back into myself. He had brought us to his bed, pressing me down into the thick pillows, the heat of his body like a brand against mine. Music still filled my soul and my pulse thrummed to the rising beat.

The bond between us was a steady golden glow, pulsing with that phantom melody that echoed over us and through us, repeated back until it was a never-ending cycle, a blissful hymn.

As the music rose between us, I was tearing at his clothes, pressing kisses to his face, his chin, his neck, anything I could reach. I bit his shoulder and he groaned against me, his clothing suddenly vanishing, along with the tattered remains of my dress.

The music was changing, building, the wild joy transforming into passion that crashed over and over us, waves breaking through our entwined bodies. His touches were tenderly at odds with his fervent movements, stroking my hair, cupping my face, caressing my sides, teasing my breasts until I was writhing helplessly beneath him.

I felt him push inside me as the music peaked and all I could do was gasp and shudder, arching into him as his name rolled through my mind in a beautiful counterpoint. _Rhys rhys rhys rhys rhys rhys …_

I locked my legs around his back, pulling him deeper. I was drowning—in Rhys, in music, in the marvel that was the bond between us. Deep as I was in his mind, it was as if we were making love for the very first time. I could feel everything he felt, spiraling upward as he lost his hold on the music and on the remains of the dreamscape, and it jangled out of control and chaotic.

It broke over me and my back bowed as my climax shattered over me with those discordant notes. Rhys shuddered as he felt me fall apart around him and a moment later he buried his face in the pillows at my neck as he slammed into me one last time, his own release thundering through him as he muffled his roar.

I was left quivering, exultant, and completely wrecked. I clung to Rhys, panting, heart racing, as I felt him slowly begin to untangle our minds. But even as he disappeared behind his walls once more, there was still something there, something _more_ than that feeble bargain that we'd been hiding behind.

He lifted his head and in the darkness his eyes glowed, a violet sea of stars. I smiled and traced the shape of his face with trembling fingers. He kissed each one and then I drew his face to mine, and my lips found his, softly, gently. A kiss that promised forever in a place without time. I stroked his face, his hair, his shoulders. In my mind, a gentle melody played, soothing and comforting, and he laid his head down on my breast and slept.

When I woke hours later, I was warm and comfortable, in a bed that smelled right, like _us_ , and I opened my eyes to see Rhys watching me with a lazy smile. I stretched, enjoying how his eyes traced my body, and reached for him.

At the sight of my right arm, devoid of anything but the remnants of smeared blue paint, it was as if someone had plunged my heart into a bucket of ice. I jolted up, staring at my arm, and the nightmare that was reality came crashing back.

I was Under the Mountain. Again.

And in just a few hours, I was going to die.

With a tug on my elbow, Rhys pulled me back to his side. "You are not going to die," he murmured.

I cursed soundlessly and checked my shields. And then—I froze. My hands clutched my throat as I tried again. Still nothing. Then, much to Rhys's amusement and concern, I began silently mouthing every single curse I knew.

It hadn't worked. The curse hadn't broken. Sleeping with Rhys hadn't been the answer.

An array of emotion rippled down the bond, which was now glowing stronger than ever. I realized that was probably why my shields were next to useless. No human mind could account for being linked with that of a High Fae _daemati_. But it seemed to work both ways, as I could sense Rhys being torn between incredulous anger and stunned hilarity.

"You thought _sleeping with me_ would break your curse?" he managed, and I knew I had seconds before his anger won out.

Wriggling out his arms, I rolled over until I was straddling his hips, gripping his shoulders with my hands to pin him in place. _It doesn't matter anymore. Listen to me! This is important._ I gave him a little shake. _I am going to die today._

His eyes narrowed. "I don't appreciate being used, Feyre darling." His voice was a deadly purr and his hands gripped my hips, fingers digging into my skin so tightly that I knew I would have bruises.

I hissed at him. _Hate me later. Right now, you have to listen._ I knew he could send me back to my cell at any second, so I hurried on quickly. _When I beat the third task_ — He stilled beneath me, and I knew I had his attention at last. _We both know the bargain has no timeframe and there's no way Amarantha will let us go immediately. In fact, why would she let me go at all when she can kill me?_

"The bargain requires her to set you free, eventually if not immediately," Rhys murmured, his expression unchanged.

I pursed my lips. _Death is a kind of freedom._ I shook my head. _It doesn't matter. The point is, I beat her three tasks and nothing changes._

"Pity you never figured out that riddle," he drawled.

I gulped and just looked at him.

His eyes widened and he pushed himself up on his elbows. "You—Feyre, _why_ —you could end all of this!"

 _It's complicated,_ I snapped before I caught myself. _It's_ — _I can't exactly_ say _the answer, can I?_

I steeled myself and threw back my shoulders, heedless of my nudity or his, and faced him as proudly as the High Lady I was, or would one day become. _That's where you come in. Rhys, I need your help._

When the guards came early that morning, I was back in my cell and ready. They chucked my old, rotting clothes at me and refused to turn away while I dressed. I was beyond caring.

As they escorted me to the throne room, I felt that I had become like Nuala and Cerridwen, a wraith made up only of shadows. I wasn't Feyre Cursebreaker or Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court, or even Feyre Archeron. I was Feyre Deathbringer, and today people would die at my hand.

I didn't want to think about what I was going to do. My head was a void, empty of everything, even the comfort of darkness. My bond with Rhys that had been so brilliant and strong only a few hours ago was now silent, from both sides.

I stepped into the throne room and strode solemnly for Amarantha. The crowd drew back on either side of me but I paid no attention to them. I had eyes only for the queen. I felt a bizarre moment of kinship with her. Death waited for both of us this day, but I was the only one who saw it coming.

Amarantha was smiling at me and I smiled back, a terrible smile that was both a promise and a threat. She chose to ignore it.

"Two trials lie behind you," she said with idle confidence. "And only one more awaits. I wonder if it will be worse to fail now—when you are so close." She pouted in mock sympathy but my grin only grew wider, almost a leer. She would find out for herself firsthand, very soon.

Amarantha gave me a sweet smile. "Any words to say before you die? Oh—my mistake." She tittered, though the only ones who joined in her laughter were my prison guards. I didn't react. _Get it over with,_ I wanted to shout at her.

With nothing to work with, either from me or from her audience, she was growing bored. "Very well, then." She clapped her hands twice, and I steeled myself for what I knew was to come.

Some parts of my experience Under the Mountain were no more than an indistinct blur in my memories, but this—this I remembered with perfect, haunting clarity.

As before, three bound and hooded figures were prodded out, kneeling in a line before me. As before, a black-clad servant with a black velvet pillow appeared beside each figure. I stared at those ash daggers and felt the empty void tremble around me.

"Your final task, Feyre," Amarantha drawled, her words dripping with poison. "Stab each of these unfortunate souls in the heart."

Amarantha kept talking but I didn't hear her. Everything else she was saying was just a game, her way of trying to break me before her. As if killing three innocents wouldn't have been enough by itself. I wondered what she would do if I took that first dagger and turned it on myself instead. The thought clanged inside of me, stealing my breath.

I could do it. Could I do it? I had to die today. Killing these three fairies—or two fairies since the third was Tamlin—changed nothing. Completing the tasks only enraged Amarantha enough to kill me, but if the end goal was just for me to die—why couldn't someone else live?

Amarantha had finished her pretty speech and all eyes in the room were on me, waiting to see if I would break.

I picked up the first dagger. It was a slender weight in my hand, cool and almost reassuring in its solidness. I stared at that dagger and imagined it, plunging it into my breast, how the warm blood would pump out, coating my hands. I had died before, and though Amarantha's attacks had been painful, at the actual moment of death—when she had shattered my spine, I had felt nothing. It had been so quick, that death. Would bleeding out from a chest wound be as easy?

"Not so fast," Amarantha interrupted my thoughts and I jerked my head up to stare at her, wide-eyed. But no, she had no idea what I'd just been considering.

At her words, the hood was yanked off the head of the first figure, revealing the High Fae youth whose face would haunt me for all my days. "That's better," Amarantha mused. "Proceed, Feyre, dear. Enjoy it."

Yes, she had _no idea_ where my thoughts had been _._ But the youth stared up at me with wide-eyed panic and I knew that he saw death written on my face, even if he didn't realize it was my own, not his, that I was contemplating. I stepped closer as he begged, knowing that Amarantha—that _everyone_ —watching me and would see any hesitation as a sign that I was going to fall apart before their eyes. But still—I paused.

My thoughts raced, and the youth's pleas became more fervent. I couldn't think, between his desperation and all the eyes in the room upon me and the weight of the world on my shoulders. My fingers clenched around the dagger. _Change nothing,_ the Tail's words roared through me, drowning out everything else. _Change nothing!_

Gasping, half-sobbing, I closed the short distance and plunged the dagger into his heart in one smooth motion. As he screamed and fell to the floor, writhing, I held up the bloody dagger and stared at it. I forced my sticky fingers to uncurl from it, one by one, until the blade clattered to the floor just as the youth's cries fell silent.

"Very good," said Amarantha. She still sounded pleased. She still thought I would break before I could finish this. I ignored her and picked up the second dagger. I had lived this before and this time it was easier, not harder, and part of me hated myself even more for that.

The guards pulled off the next faerie's hood and the female quailed at the sight of me. I could only imagine what I looked like, dressed in filthy rags, face as still as death, hands covered in blood. I stepped up to her, placing the tip of the dagger against her breast—and waited as she finished her prayer. I didn't realize I was mouthing the words along with her until her tear-filled eyes dropped to my lips. At the end, she met my gaze and didn't look away as I slid the dagger home to pierce her heart. I watched the light fade from her eyes as she fell bonelessly to the floor.

A shudder went through me. It was done. It was done. The worst of it was done. Stabbing Tamlin in the heart didn't bother me, especially when I knew it wouldn't kill him, and then Amarantha would take matters into her own hands and Rhys would play his part and everything would be well after that. Blessed Mother let everything be well.

I picked up the last dagger and the guard ripped the hood away from the last faerie—and the empty silence I had wrapped myself in shrieked and shattered like shards of glass.

Because it wasn't Tamlin who knelt before me.

It was Rhys.

I stared at him, frozen, hardly remembering to breathe. My hands dropped to my sides, the dagger dangling from limp fingers.

"Something wrong?" Amarantha asked coyly.

I scanned Rhys's face. Something was definitely wrong. He was blinking repeatedly as if the light bothered his eyes, or maybe he was having trouble focusing. Those violet orbs that had glowed so brilliantly for me only a few hours earlier were now dull and clouded. He'd always been pale here Under the Mountain, but now his skin was chalky white, and his hair was dishevelled—no, matted on one side.

I snarled at the queen. _What did you do, knock him out and then stop him from healing?_ She couldn't hear me, so I added a few choice curses as well.

My plan relied on Rhys—if he was out of commission then we were all doomed. I focused on the bond, tugging on it, chasing down it to claw uselessly at the wall I found at the other end. _RHYS!_ There was no response to my mental scream, not even a flicker.

Amarantha's lips curled into a smile. "Rhysand," she said, "thinks he's entirely too cunning. Perhaps this will even the playing field for the rest of us." Her voice was mocking. "It's time he realized he was just a pawn in this game, not a player." Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see the other High Lords glancing at each other uneasily. Even if they didn't like to admit it, they knew Rhys was the most powerful of them. If Amarantha was willing to sacrifice him like this, what did that mean for the rest of them?

"Come on, Feyre," Amarantha continued. "This should be easy for you. After all, it's Tamlin you love, is it not? Unless," her long nails tapped on the arm of her throne, "there's something more between you two than the bargain written on your arm." She leaned forward, grinning savagely. "What other bargains did you make in those long, lonely nights?" I stiffened at the insinuation but couldn't stop the blush that crept up my neck.

My eyes darted at last to Tamlin, seated beside Amarantha's throne. The expressionless mask he had worn for months was beginning to crack, his eyes wide at what he read in my reaction.

Amarantha laughed, loud and triumphant. "So, what will it be, Feyre?"

It was too late to choose a different path. My fingers tightened on the dagger, but still I hesitated. I called to Rhys over and over, begging him to let me in, to answer, to give me any kind of sign that he was there. Slowly, slowly I lifted the dagger. The watching crowd stilled in anticipation. My hand shook as I pressed the tip of it against his heart. I knew it wouldn't kill him. I knew he suffered the same fate that Tamlin and all the High Lord's had under Amarantha's spell, but all the logic in the world didn't make it any easier.

I stared into his unfocused eyes. _Rhys. I love you._

My muscles tensed to plunge the dagger home and then—just before I committed to the action, I felt it. The gentlest caress against my mind. One of his eyelid's fluttered, a barely perceptible wink. My knees went weak with relief, but I didn't have time to wonder if he was playing a tangled, dangerous game or if he had just managed to pull himself together enough for that tiny sign. I closed my eyes and drove the dagger deep with all my strength.

The shock of it hitting that cold stone in his chest thrummed up my arm and I yanked it back, bile rising at the sight of his blood on my hands. Rhys swayed, sagging to the floor with a muffled groan, and I tossed the bloody dagger away, reaching for him. He had slumped forward so the wound was mostly hidden from sight. I prayed that it had been a deliberate motion because he didn't want anyone to notice if he was healing.

The crowd around us rippled, finally realizing that I had indeed completed the third task. "She won," someone said, sounding stunned. "Free them," came another voice, this one hopeful.

Amarantha's voice cracked through the murmurs like a whip, silencing them once more. "I'll free them whenever I see fit. Feyre didn't specify _when_ I had to free them—just that I had to. At some point. Perhaps when you're dead." My fingers tightened on Rhys's shoulders. He didn't move.

Amarantha said more, but I didn't hear her. My heart was racing and there was a rushing sound in my ears. Everything that happened after this was out of my hands.

She was coming for me. She was coming for me. _She was coming for me._

It was like my worst nightmares come to life as I looked up and saw her stepping down from her dais, her features twisted with hatred as she hissed at me. _"You."_ She bared her teeth at me, no longer a pristine queen but something dark and feral. _"I'm going to kill you."_

I was ripped away from Rhys as a bolt of pure agony crashed into me, throwing me across the room. The pain that tore through me was so much worse than the phantom pains of my old nightmares. My mouth gaped open and my throat clenched, a gasping gurgle the only sound I could make. My body cracked against the hard floor again and again, waves of agony pounding into me until I only knew my bones were breaking from the sound of them cracking, horribly loud without my tortured screaming to drown out everything else.

"Cowardly, lying, inconstant bit of human garbage," Amarantha sneered. "You came here claiming to love Tamlin, yet how easily your head was turned when another match was more advantageous."

She was close enough to kick me then, again and again. I gasped, struggling for each painful breath as I heard my ribs snap.

"You're not worthy of him," she hissed, and through the haze of pain I wondered if she meant Tamlin or Rhys, or perhaps both.

The crowd rallied, more faeries shouting in protest. As Amarantha turned away to scream at them, I could see Rhys. He was still on the floor, but his hands were free. His eyes, half hidden behind a shock of blue-black hair, gleamed at me. My fingers twitched toward him and I felt that familiar brush against my mind again. _Feyre …_

His thoughts were weak, but steady. _Help me,_ I begged.

Then Amarantha turned back to me, making a curled gesture at me as if bending something and my back arched involuntarily, my spine on fire as it stretched and stretched and—

I heard it. I heard the sound of my own spine snapping. _Now,_ was my last half-coherent thought to Rhys, and then I followed that thought down the bond to nestle inside the warm safety of my mate's mind.

I stared out at my own dying body. The light had gone out of my eyes and they stared blankly, but my chest still heaved, a final few breaths before my body began to realize that there was nothing prompting it to function anymore. It was unnerving, but nothing compared to what happened next.

I sat up. The crowd that had fallen silent at my death, now drew back with gasps of horror. My head lolled unnaturally on a neck that no longer supported it. My dead eyes stared at Amarantha, whose face was bloodless with shock. My chest heaved with another breath and my mouth opened.

" _Love."_ My voice, unused for months and powered by a force that wasn't quite sure how everything worked, was a horrible croak. But the words were understandable, which was all that mattered. "The answer to the riddle … is love."

And with that final exhale, my eyes closed and my body went slack, crumpling bonelessly to the ground.

I sank with it, my mind slipping out of Rhys's grasp and falling, falling, falling.

No, not falling. Drowning. I was deep underneath a swirling vortex of water.


	10. Chapter 10

I struggled instinctively and found that my body was my own again. I kicked and shoved, choking, my lungs desperately craving the air that was no longer there. Something struck me hard in the chest—no, grabbed me, hauling me out of the water and tossing me onto the rocks where I clung, spluttering and sucking in lungfuls of beautiful, cold air.

I was back in the Tail's grotto, though the Tail herself was nowhere to be seen. Water was rushing in from somewhere, lapping at the slick walls as it crept up them slowly but steadily. The whirlpool in the center was easing, leaving only a knee-deep pool that rippled with the natural waves. I knew it was knee deep, because someone was standing in it, his siphons casting an eerie red sheen of the wet surfaces.

"Cassian," I gasped, and was startled by the sound of my own voice. I stared at my hands, so long and slender and alien once again. I was back. I was back and it was over.

"What are you _doing?"_ Cassian snarled at me, practically shouting to be heard over the roaring water. He stalked over to me, flicking droplets off his wings as he went. "We have to get out of here."

"Where's Rhys?" I croaked.

Cassian was scanning the walls around us as if looking for an escape. "Whatever Cauldron-cursed magic guards this place wouldn't let him in. But it let _me_ in." He gave me a crooked grin and I knew that when this was all over Rhys would never hear the end of how he had to let Cassian rescue his mate and High Lady.

Azriel rippled into being next to us. "And me," the shadowsinger said with a wry smile.

The water surged suddenly, almost knocking us all down as it swirled to waist level. And it was _cold._

"Out," I gasped, shivering. "The tunnel's blocked by now. The only way out is there." I pointed up, high, high at the top of the cave where the narrow sliver of sky was visible. I tried to summon my wings and staggered.

Cassian swore and shoved me toward Azriel. "Take her," he grunted. "I'll make my own way out." He was already eyeing the slick walls for possible handholds.

Azriel waited only long enough to see Cassian leap high up the wall with a powerful beat of his wings, keeping them extended and flapping them for balance and extra bursts of lift as he quickly scaled the wall. Then he gripped my arm, gently but firmly, and we disappeared into blackness.

We reappeared on the top of a cliff and Azriel steadied me—traveling with a shadowsinger was not like the usual winnowing.

Rhys knelt at a crevice near the edge of the cliff, looking down into the dark pit. After a moment, he reached a hand down and hauled Cassian out. His brother had barely cleared the ledge before Rhys was turning toward me.

With a strangled cry, I threw myself at him. My faerie strength felt alien to me, as it had when I was first Made, and he grunted softly as I crashed into him. I felt dizzy with relief. He was here. Cassian and Azriel were here. I hadn't ruined anything. It had worked.

Rhys pulled back to look at me, brushing tendrils of wet hair out of my face. "Feyre, what happened? You were there, and then you weren't." I knew what he meant, that sickening feeling of having the bond suddenly smothered. "And then you were back." His eyes searched mine.

I placed a hand over his heart, feeling the steady beat. _Take me home,_ was all I said.

To his credit, he didn't question me further, though I knew that would come later. He just swept me into his arms and, with a nod to his brothers, leapt into the air with one great sweep of his wings. I was asleep before we made it home.

When I woke, it was to a scene eerily similar to my last waking. I was in bed, my bed—our bed. Rhys was sprawled beside me, watching me through heavy-lidded eyes. I inhaled, and familiar scents almost overpowered me. Home. I was definitely home.

That didn't stop me from checking my right arm and hugging it to my chest in relief as I beheld the familiar tattoos.

 _I suppose you want an explanation now,_ I told Rhys silently. _But first I should really_ —

"Madja was here yesterday," Rhys said smoothly. I froze, and he gave me a small smile. "It didn't take Azriel long to track down stories of that place—of the Old Wives' Tail and what it meant." I studied his face, reached to him through our bond, but he had locked himself tightly away from me, as he rarely had before.

When the silence stretched, I nudged at his walls. _And did it work?_

His expression didn't change, but he let me in, and I was blown away by the intensity of the emotion that he was struggling to control. Fear, when he couldn't reach me through the Tail's ancient magic. Despair, when the bond went dark. Helplessness, when Cassian and Azriel could enter that cave when he could not. Relief, when he saw me on top of the cliff and the bond snapped back into place as if it had never been gone. Worry, when I immediately collapsed and slept for two days—two _days?_

And hidden deep behind it all, as if it was a secret so precious and fragile that acknowledging it might destroy it—a cautious, incredulous jubilation.

I felt boneless, giddy with relief and almost dizzy. _It worked._ Even my mental voice was full of awe. _I can't believe it worked._ My hands slid down to cradle my abdomen.

Rhys laid his hand over mine, stars flickering in his eyes, but still he held himself back. _What worked? I had to stop Azriel from torturing half of Velaris to find out what exactly a visit to that cave entails. Enlighten me._

I took a steadying breath and tried to figure out how to begin.

Rhys spoke again before I could marshall my thoughts. "I would also love to know why you're not speaking to me, Feyre darling. At least, not out loud."

I blinked, then gave him a shaky grin. "Not used to having a voice again," I croaked, and then winced. Even though it had only been two days since _this_ body had spoken, it still felt like it had been months since I'd formed real words.

Rhys froze, his gaze going slightly out of focus. His lips parted and through his grip on me I could feel his pulse begin to race. "Rhys?" His eyes darted as if he was experiencing a waking dream. I gripped his hand more tightly in mine, giving him a little shake, and he blinked rapidly, focusing on me again with eyes blown wide.

"I—remember that. Under the Mountain. I remember that you couldn't speak. But—I also remember—I remember it two ways." He was breathing in shallow pants, reeling in shock. "Feyre, what have you done?"

I pulled myself into a seated position so I could take his face in my hands. "It's fine, Rhys. Everything is fine. Under the Mountain was a long time ago. I'm here. I'm safe. We're all safe." My fingers stroked his jaw as he struggled to regain control of himself, to understand.

I kept talking, telling him of my hunt for fertility magic, how it had led me to the Tail, what she had told me about our inability to have children. When I got to the part about the bargain I had struck, his expression darkened and his gaze dropped to the new tattoo stretched across my collarbone, but he didn't interrupt my story. And then when I told him about the magic's price, his eyes went distant again.

"That—explains a lot." He shook his head ruefully. "Not that I knew I even had questions until just now." He pulled me into his arms, fingers dancing a pattern down my spine. "So that's why you asked me to—that last night. You weren't just being fatalistic when you said you were going to die. And that's how you knew the so-called curse would break at that moment."

"It was still a guess," I confessed. "If the magic told me not to change anything, I couldn't believe it would _make_ things change, not in that moment when it really mattered."

"That was one of the most horrible things I've ever done," he murmured into my hair. "Reaching inside your mind and finding—nothing. Forcing that empty shell to sit up, to inhale, to speak." He shuddered against me and I wrapped my arms around him.

"But it worked?" I felt a flicker of confusion from him. "I was gone the moment I died. That was the bargain. I was able to cling to the bond just long enough, just while that gray area between life and death existed, to see what you did, but that was it."

Rhys thought for a few minutes. "After that, I only have one set of memories. It seems you held up your side of the bargain well, because nothing really changed after that." He paused. "Although, if Tamlin ever thinks back to that time, he's in for a real shock. Or anyone else who was in Amarantha's court for that matter, though I doubt most of them, even the other High Lords, dwell on it unless they have a reason to."

"And it worked," I whispered. He tensed against me, knowing that this time I was not referring to anything to do with Amarantha. I felt it when a familiar image of a little boy kindled in his thoughts.

"It worked," he whispered back, lifting his head to look at me. His masks began to fall away until he was bare before me. Fear and disbelief were fading, and joy was beginning to fill his eyes. "Father," he said hesitantly, tasting the word. Then, a bit louder, "I'm going to be a father."

Tears pricked my eyes. "Yes," I choked out. "And you're going to be _amazing_ at it."

His eyes were full of stars as he kissed me, passionately, exuberantly, and I could feel his smile against my lips as I eagerly returned it.

In a general sense, everything went smoothly and peacefully after that.

I only experienced a light bout of morning sickness, and Madja brought me a special tea that helped. I ate so much that I was sure I must be having three or four babies instead of one.

Mor threw me a party when she found out. Cassian wrecked it by drinking my portion of the wine on top of his. She left him to clean up the mess he'd made and dragged me out shopping for baby clothes. My sisters joined us—even Nesta, who'd never shown any interest in children, and we had a fully stocked nursery long before I was too large to do nothing more than waddle around the house.

I pestered Cassian enough about training that at last he threw up his hands and went to the healer to find out what kind of exercises would be beneficial instead of harmful for a pregnant female. Some of her suggestions were embarrassing, for _both_ of us, but by that point he was determined to help.

I caught Amren watching me thoughtfully more than once over those nine months. Considering how disgusted she'd been by most natural bodily processes, I couldn't imagine that she would ever be interested in having children. And yet—it was definitely _not_ disgust on her face. Even Rhys noticed it, but he just waggled his eyebrows at me and shrugged.

Azriel turned out to be an unexpected angel. He was always just—there. Whenever Rhys was not at my side, I barely had to think of something I might need and suddenly Azriel was there with it. After a few months, I realized he and Rhys had worked out a system where Rhys was always listening for me and passing instructions to the shadowsinger, who had made it his personal mission to make sure his High Lord and Lady's child was the safest in all of Prythian.

And after nine long months of pampering and careful preparations, when my water finally broke, complete and utter chaos erupted around me.

Elain ran to the kitchen for hot water and clean cloths while Cassian disappeared to fetch Madja. Mor and Nesta helped me up the stairs to our bedroom because Rhys—Rhys had frozen. I caught a glimpse of him staring, poleaxed, at that wet spot on the floor where I had been standing and Azriel stalking toward him before I was whisked away. _Rhys?_

I was quickly ensconced in bed, my sisters flitting around me, and then the first contraction hit. I whimpered. _Rhys?_

Mor was at my side, gripping my hand. "Remember your breathing. Cassian will be pissed if he did all that practicing with you for nothing." We shared a grin at the memory of Cassian walking me through the birthing exercises, as seriously and intensely as if it was part of our usual training repertoire. Another shudder ran through me and I groaned.

 _Rhys if you don't get your Illyrian arse up here so help me_ —

The bedroom door swung open but, to everyone's relief except mine, it was Madja, not Rhys, who came through it. She stepped immediately to the place at the foot of the bed that Elain had prepared for her, and it was only when I saw my sister's wan face that I realized she had been steeling herself to step in if the healer hadn't arrived in time. I reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze of appreciation.

Another contraction hit me and I ground my teeth to keep from crying out. Madja peered up at me. "Scream if you must, High Lady. It's expected, during these things. And you might truly injure yourself by resisting." She patted my knee reassuringly. "You're doing your breathing? Good. You're progressing nicely, but it's too soon to tell much yet. This could still be a very long night."

The door banged open again and Rhys blew through it. He was at my side almost faster than I could see, one hand gripping mine while the other brushed back my hair soothingly. There was a fading red mark on his face. He smiled at me sheepishly.

I stared at him, aghast. "Please tell me Azriel didn't literally have to knock some sense into you to get you to come up here?"

Laughter that quickly turned into coughing echoed around the room and Madja looked up, noting Azriel and Cassian outside the open door and visibly counting how many people were crowding around me. "Everyone out," she barked, in one of the sharpest tones I'd ever heard from her. "You can stay," she nodded at Rhys, who relaxed from the defensive stance he'd snapped into. "As long as the High Lady wishes it," she added.

"Yes," I gasped around the quaking of my body. I had a crushing grip on Rhys's hand, but he clung to me no less tightly.

He turned concerned eyes to me, fingers brushing my forehead. "I could take your pain," he murmured.

"Don't you dare," I growled at him. The thought of floating through childbirth in a numb haze, watching my body heave and convulse as if it belonged to a different person—no, this was _my_ child and I wanted to be completely present as he came into the world. Unable to put all of that into words, especially as the need to breathe properly became more and more urgent, I opened my mind to Rhys, sharing with him and feeling his understanding.

And then—he lingered. He wasn't just at my side physically, gripping my hand and soothing me in between contractions. His soul was wrapped around mine, riding each wave of agony with me, showering me in love and reassurance. _You might be the first male … ever to experience childbirth,_ I teased him as I panted. Sweat beaded both of our faces.

 _Please don't ever say that out loud. No one would ever let me live it down._ He rolled his eyes, but I could sense that beyond his bravado he was treasuring the chance to be as connected to the birth of our son as I was.

For a while we were lost in the cycle of pain and deep breaths and clinging to each other.

At last, Madja made a pleased, soothing sound. "You're doing very well indeed, High Lady. Not much longer now."

The sound that came out of me then was barely human—a low, groaning wail that would have been haunting if it wasn't for the sweet sound that followed it seconds later. The sound of a baby's first cry.

I struggled to push myself up onto my elbows, craning my neck to see. At my side, Rhys had gone completely still, eyes fixed on Madja as she cleaned and swaddled the infant. It wasn't until she carefully placed the tiny bundle in my outstretched arms that I finally got my first real look at my son. Our son.

He had a shock of fine, black hair and eyes that were the deepest blue I'd ever seen.

"Look, Rhys," I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away. "We did it."

Beside me, I heard him exhale slowly, lifting one hand to cup the back of the infant's head with infinite tenderness. His other arm came around my shoulders and I leaned into him, exhausted but feeling more complete than I ever had.

Madja bustled quietly around the room, tidying up before she let herself out to spread the good news to our friends. Even their explosive cheers of joy barely disturbed me. I didn't even remember falling asleep, only floating off into a golden haze.

One week later, I woke late in the night.

At first I wasn't sure what had awakened me. I slipped into the nursery to find Rhys sprawled in the rocking chair, our son cradled in his arms, both of them sound asleep. I leaned against the doorframe and watched them silently for long moments, memorizing the scene and hoping that I could capture it with paint in the future.

No one else was in the house—as much as our family wanted to help, they were also smart enough to head to their own homes each night where they knew at least _they_ could sleep through the night.

I was rummaging through the kitchen when I felt a burning across my collarbone. I almost banged my head on the cabinet as I jerked myself out of it, realizing suddenly what I needed to do.

I still had a bargain to fulfill.

I found the package exactly where Madja had promised she would leave it, wrapped and sealed in layers of magic to protect it. I didn't bother to change out of my nightclothes, only wrapped my robe more tightly around myself as I snatched up the package and winnowed to that familiar cliff where Rhys had found me nine months ago.

I peered down into the dark cervice, pitch black and unfathomable in the night. I wondered again if blood was the price that Tail always demanded, and if so what kind of power it gave her and what she intended to do with it. I worried what she might do with _my_ blood specifically and the unique power that dwelled within it.

But that was a problem for another time.

I held the package out, stripping off the layers of magic and letting it fall into the depths.

"Blood of the womb," I intoned. "My debt is repaid."

The spiraling waves tattooed on my collarbone flared with green light, then burned away into nothing. I touched my skin but it was unmarred, the sensation already fading into a faint tingling.

"You didn't have to come alone."

I whirled. Rhys stood a short distance away, still carrying our son securely in his arms, his hair disheveled and his clothing rumpled as if he had woken up and immediately sought me out without any other thought.

I knew he didn't just mean tonight.

"I—I knew you would stop me. I knew it was a big risk."

"An extraordinary risk," he drawled.

"But I wanted this! I wanted your children, _our_ children. And I knew, somehow _I knew_ it would take more than just patience." I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself.

Rhys's free arm snaked out, pulling me against his firm warmth as his wings curled around me, encasing our little family in a leathery cocoon. As I stared up at him, his jaw was clenched tightly but there was nothing in his eyes but love.

"You're right," he admitted with a sigh. "I would _absolutely_ have stopped you." I frowned at his chest, unable to meet his eyes, and he kissed my forehead. "But I wouldn't trade this for the world. And I have to wonder—" He hesitated.

I glanced up at him. "What?"

"If the Bone Carver knew. The first time he saw you, you had already been Remade. Yet he still took the form of our son. Why? The image didn't even mean anything to us at that point." He stared at the infant who was snuggled between us. "Do you think he knew, even then? Even though you hadn't yet gone back? Or—did he also remember both ways, since it was also in his past?"

"I don't think it's supposed to make sense," I said, shaking my head with a wry grin. I wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him as tightly as I dared with the precious bundle resting between us.

I glanced around the windswept cliff one last time. "I'm done here. Let's go home."

Between one breath and the next, we vanished into shadows and stardust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and reviews! I'm not very good at replying to every one, but I appreciate you all! And thanks again to my betas on the Kingdom of Sarah J. Maas discord.


End file.
